Heaven's Eyes
by SassaM
Summary: "Rick blinked and looked again at the female figure which seemed so familiar. That wasn't even possible. He shook his head to get rid of his silly thoughts putting on his best Grampa-smile instead." What if Beckett and Castle meet by chance because of his grandchildren a decade after he got back together with Gina and never returned to the precinct? (AU - 11 years after 2x24)
1. Chance Encounter

**Author's note**: This idea came to me some time ago on reading other future AU-fan fiction. It didn't want to let me go, but instead demanded to be written, so here it is.

In the way of telling I wanted to try alternating POVs with every chapter. Throughout the story most of them will be Kate's, and besides the usual characters turning up, there will be new one's POVs told as well to give the story its unique perspectives.

The first chapters will mostly be about catching up on what happened the past decade, since their ways have been parted, and to set up the background for the story. For Castle to make his appearance (and having his POVs too) I need to ask you to be patient. But be assured he will turn up - eventually. Just stick with me.

Since I'm not a native speaker and this is my very first fan fiction I'd ask you to be gentle but I would love to read about your opinion and suggestions on the story.

I'm also interested on a beta to help me with grammar and ideas. If someone happens to be interested, let me know!

Last but not least I'd like to thank AlwaysextraordinaryMuse and especially for giving tipps, encouraging me to publish this story and in fact helping me to do so.

**Disclaimer**: I certainly do neither own the show nor any of the characters, but do only borrow them to play out my little story here.

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**Chapter 1 – Chance Encounter**

_**Kate's POV**_

Tuesday, May 4th 2021

When Kate entered her apartment building the doorman gave her a friendly nod „Mrs. Davidson." She greeted back by waving at him.

"Something on, Wolfgang?"

"Nope, Ma'am." The mid-fifties Austrian was a friendly and reliable guy that had been working here ever since the day she had moved in about nine years ago.

She remembered when he had given her a hand with all her boxes, while she had been devastated that very day. She had been right in the middle of her divorce when she had decided to find a new apartment as quickly as possible. Luckily she found this one right away, which clearly wasn't what one could expect in Manhattan at all. Normally she would have had to hire a real-estate agent who would have been looking for months or even years to find an affordable apartment in a decent neighborhood. Instead it only took her some weeks to get this one. It had been great and she had been grateful for being able to move. She had been staying with her father after the break up with Josh, but she had desperately needed a place for her own to start a new life. More than eight years had passed ever since and she still was happy with her home. It was her haven to come to when life or the job was tough on her.

Kate sighed. It had been one of these days again. Ever since she got that promotion and transferred to her new position as the head of the 21st precinct, she had realized that her new job had more to do with politics and less with being a cop. And Kate, clearly, was no politician at all, but obviously she had no choice as to become one.

Sometimes she wondered why she even got promoted in the first place. Without being modest, she knew, that she had been good at her job as detective, maybe even the best. Her leading skills had been broadly acknowledged, so it would have been unlikely to hold her promotion too long. Her bosses knew she was a dedicated cop engaged to the job with all her heart and soul, so it had to happen eventually.

Still, sometimes she longed for those days when she only was a detective leading her own team, one case at a time. She missed to work the field, since she only got to join one of her teams every now and then, due to her current position. She missed that satisfying feeling, when they were able to close a case and tell the relatives that they got the guy, who was sent to jail to suffer for the crime committed. She missed bringing closure to the victim's families. She missed going for some drink to celebrate with her boys after work when they had succeeded. But as a captain she couldn't do that anymore. For Montgomery it had been possible to do it, but she surely couldn't. She was now able to understand her former Captain Iron Gates way better than she could back then. Not only was she younger than a whole lot of her detectives, but she also was a woman. It had never been easy to be a female detective especially until she had settled in with her immediate teammates, but being Captain and the head of the precinct took the game to a whole new level.

She knew she posed a threat to some of her men at the 21st. It was hard for them to have a woman for boss, especially since they didn't know her from before. So it was important to her to keep it up right away from the start. She needed them to respect her to do her job properly. Only if they took her seriously they would be able to accept her eventually and develop their loyalties towards her. It was vital to the work on the force that she could trust her men and they trusted her as boss. So she did her best. She didn't force herself on the cases of her teams to make sure they didn't fear her to be watching all too closely. At the same time she worked hard to keep up with all that was going on at the precinct to show them who was in control, while she also did more paperwork than ever before.

And as if that wouldn't be enough, she had to go to all too boring meetings nearly every second day. Today was the worst ever. She had been preparing for weeks. After two hours of pleading, pointing out her reasons, trying to offer some sort of compromise and pulling all her cards, she had gotten the strong impression of fighting for a lost cause which had been decided about prior to her arrival anyway. But it also seemed like she had lost her touch.

Obviously her stubborn attitude of not being willing to back down must have impressed the Commissioner somehow. He had finally offered her a six month trial run on the requested cold case unit provided that she picked a crew of three to four Detectives and supporting uniforms within a two week period and engaged herself in building that unit while evaluating its success or failure thoroughly. Kate had been ordered to report back at least every month and to file her final report by the end of November. The results of that evaluation would be vital to the decision whether or not a cold case unit should be installed permanently at the 21st.

Now her prepared plans only needed to be put into action. She already had some guys for her unit in mind. The request for a transfer of Detective Hastings, still working at the 12th, had been filed already. Beside that, she intended to offer the position of lead Detective to Ryan but needed yet to ask him about it. With Harris and Rodriguez, two seniors working Homicide at the 21st, there was a team of partners who's records clearly showed a huge amount of endurance in pursuing and solving cases long after they would have been declared of being cold. Their persistence would add not only the needed power to her unit, but also a lot of experience with working cold cases.

Yeah, it had definitely been one of those days. To be honest it actually had been a hell of a week. Maybe she should go on a girls night out or get her bike to spend some time on the road. She hadn't done that in ages or it may have only felt so. But she needed to get out for some time.

She was considering to call Lanie when the sound of the elevator bell snapped her out of her thoughts. She began moving towards the doors, which were about to slide open.

"Wait! You're not going alone." She turned her head at the voice of a young woman behind her. "Nathaniel Thomas Walker!" The woman called at the same moment when Kate felt a small hand grabbing her leg, pushing to get past her.

Looking down a strange and unexpected feeling – where was this coming from? – was washing over her. She was able to see a brown haired boy, two or three years old. He apparently wanted to be the first one on the elevator and was beaming back at them with bright blue eyes while he cheered loudly at his success. When Kate realized that the young woman, obviously mother to the little guy, was some steps behind, she quickly hit the button to keep the elevators doors from sliding closed.

Something about that woman seemed familiar to her but she couldn't quite place her. Probably they had met in the building before. Since she was juggling with three well filled grocery bags, it was likely they were living here and not only visiting. Kate took a closer look at the other woman.

She was about mid or end twenties, and she was married as the golden wedding band on her left ring finger suggested. She was casual, but well dressed so probably rather wealthy too. Combined with black pants she wore a green blouse fastened with a belt right beneath her chest, showing off her baby belly. Her probably dyed hair consisted of strands of different shades from rust-colored to auburn and chocolate brown. It was short cut at the back of her head, parted at the left side the longest strands were freely falling down in curls at her left cheek while the strands on the right side were safely tucked behind her ear. Her eyes were the same bright blue ones which her son must have inherited from her. Barely hidden by concealer dark bags beneath her eyes and a somewhat pale skin tone suggested that she was rather exhausted. Small dimples appeared on her cheeks when the young woman smiled at Kate gratefully getting on the elevator as well.

"Nate, you know you have to stay with me. I cannot run for you all the time, so I need you to do as I say," she addressed her son, who was looking at her sheepishly. "Got me?" He nodded in response and started smiling again.

"Where to you want to go?" Kate asked, who had been watching them and let the open-button go.

"Let me, let me!" The boy – Nate - bounced.

"Sure." Kate stepped back a little bit making way for him to get to the buttons, but she quickly realized that he wouldn't reach any but the alarm-button and the ones to go down to the parking garage. It wasn't very likely they would want to go there, was it? Without thinking she put her hands around his waist and lifted him up into the air. How light he was. Just as light as a feather but not as steady though. He was fidgeting with his hands for the right button to find.

"Eitf?" he questioned, pointing out the button and looking sideways to his mother which nodded. Wow, the little guy already knew his numbers?

"That's the same floor I want to go to as well. I am living there," Kate smiled at the boy while putting him down to his feet again. "Are you living there too?"

"We moved in just the other weekend," his mother answered in his place.

Kate hadn't noticed before that somebody had been moving in on her floor. But thinking about her last work week, which actually consisted of going in every day very early, and often staying late as well for 10 days in a row up to now. It wasn't surprising that she didn't know what was going on at home. Yeah, she clearly needed some days off. Maybe her recent success on the CCU justified staying home next weekend as long as there were no emergencies coming up. Her guys would be calling her anyway if she was needed. Probably some of them would be rather glad not having their Captain around all the time. Kate smiled at the decision she had made.

The soft female voice of the elevator interrupted her thoughts to tell them, that they had reached the eighth floor. Nate was the first one to be out again, obviously making his mother mumble on his rush.

"May I help you?" Kate offered taking two of the bags the other woman had been carrying. They passed by Kate's apartment door, catching up with Nate who was already eagerly waiting at the door to their own apartment. After the woman had unlocked the door and Nate had already been dashing off, Kate stopped at the doorway, not quite sure if she should just go in.

"I'm sorry, please come in," the other woman suddenly reappeared in her sight. "Just watch your steps, there are still some boxes we haven't been able to unpack yet. You can put those down at the counter," she pointed at the bags Kate was holding and motioned to the right, where obviously the kitchen was. Kate did as she had been told.

From what she could tell, the apartment was similar to her own, only it seemed to be bigger although some moving boxes were piled up along two walls and let the room appear smaller than it actually was. In turn some of the cupboards seemed to still wait for being filled with whatever was in the boxes. Books maybe, the good china, framed pictures of relatives or the creepy doll collection. Kate smiled at herself. No, she didn't figure Nate's mother to be the kind of person to collect dolls. The book thing seemed to be more likely. Somehow she reminded her of herself. Kate thought about her own living room. Yep, shelves were to be filled with books. The kitchen's interior style was a modern combination of mostly silver shining stainless steel and bright yellow cupboard fronts. The walls were painted in off-white and a tone of terracotta. It still smelled freshly furnished. While the cupboards ran L-shaped on the right hand side, the centre of the room clearly was a huge island unit which also consisted of an extended counter completed with four barstools and a children's high chair. Kate could picture the whole family, sitting there sharing breakfast on a late Sunday morning or even a quick cup of coffee or hot chocolate on weekdays. She sat the two bags onto the counter.

Already being busy unpacking the other bag the younger woman paused and turned to Kate.

"Thanks a lot, Mrs...?" Oh, she had not introduced herself yet.

"Davidson, but you can call me Katie."

"Can I too?" Nate had come to the kitchen as well, a stuffed animal pressed to his chest and was now trying to climb one handed onto one of the barstools next to Kate.

"Sure you can, sweetie." Kate smiled at the boy and was tempted to reach out to stroke him, which may have been widely inappropriate. Instead she only steadied the stool so it wouldn't fall over.

"Thank you Katie. Well, you already know Nate. I'm Alex. Alex Walker. Nice to meet you," the woman – Alex – offered her hand, which Kate took without hesitation.

"Do you like a cup of tea or coffee maybe?" Kate knew she should be going. But somehow she liked being there. So she decided to stay. Just a little bit longer.

"Coffee would be nice. Can I give you a hand?"

"Sure, the dishes are over there." Alex pointed to a cupboard while she stuffed a pack of cereals in another one. "And since we have an espresso machine you only need to press some buttons. It's always filled and on power. There's also decaffeinated there," she smiled at her belly. It wasn't hard for Kate to find the cups and she took three of them.

Later Kate sat at the counter with a fresh cup of cappuccino in her hand, chatting with Alex. Nate was sitting between the two of them, loudly slurping from his cup of hot chocolate and letting his legs dangle. It was strange but even though they only had met a short time before Kate was pretty sure she had made a new friend, two in fact.

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**Author's note**: So, there we go. Please let me know what you think about it.


	2. Girl's night

**Author's note**: Guys, I'm so overwhelmed with your support so far. Thanks to all who read, reviewed, followed and/or favorited this story. I hope I can keep up with your expectations and you will keep enjoying it. I'll appreciate your feedback.

Since there was a bit of a problem with my last author's note I'd like to thank APseudonimo again for encouraging me to finally start publishing my story. Thanks a lot, I do always enjoy our PM-exchanges.

**Disclaimer**: I still do neither own the show nor any of the characters, and doubt that will change any time soon.

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**Chapter 2 – Girl's night**

_**Lanie's POV**_

Friday, May 7th 2021

After work Lanie ate some burger and fries on her way home, thinking about which of her new dresses to wear that evening. She really was looking forward to going out with Kate again. It had been some time since their last girl's night. Either one of them had other plans - most of the time that one was Lanie - or one had to work - with Kate being the latter one. Lanie had been quite surprised when her friend had called her the night before to see if she was up to go out to some club. Kate had sounded good. Maybe something had changed in her life? Maybe she had met a guy? Or was it about that Greg guy from before? Lanie had not thought about him as a guy to go with Kate, but if her girl was happy Lanie wouldn't complain. Suddenly a familiar melody rose from her bag. Her phone. She was pretty sure about who would be calling. And she was not willing to talk to her boyfriend just yet but she fished for her phone nonetheless, not very surprised to see his face on the display. She smiled at the thought of him, but probably he was rather angry. Lanie hit the ignore-button and the melody stopped immediately.

Turning to a different topic she then decided to go for the bourdaux colored dress. It made her skin shine a little more and was sexy enough to get in a fancy club. Its length, or better shortness, showed her confidence and emphasized her curves but it was not all too revealing to get unwanted attention. After all, she was already taken.

It didn't take long after they had arrived before they were allowed to enter the club. Kate had also chosen wisely on her outfit. Wearing her hair open, the long locks flowing down her back, it took a couple of years off. The purple of her short curve-kissing dress made her eyes shining brighter. She still was amazingly thin. How did she actually do it? Lanie knew that Kate liked to feed on fast food and chocolate but somehow she managed not to gain weight with her poor eating habits. They seemed to have impressed the guy at the door since Kate didn't need to use her badge as admission ticket to get them through. As if she ever needed to. She knew how to take a guy. Only she used her talent on way too rare occasions outside of work.

"What do you want? Some drinks first?" Lanie asked her friend, which only nodded in response.  
They ordered at the bar and took their drinks with them to one of the free booths. Lanie let the sight of the club sink in to her. It was quite big and seemed rather new. At least Lanie hadn't heard about it before and she was usually the one to hit the clubs.  
"How did you learn about this one?" she wanted to know.  
Kate sipped at her drink and then only mouthed 'vice' to Lanie, who raised an eyebrow. That would be typical, Kate taking her to some kind of stake-out. But normally she would tell her before.  
"So is this for work or fun?" she cautiously questioned her friend. Kate simply laughed.  
"For fun of course. What do you think about me, Doctor Parish?" Kate feigned indignation.  
"Well, Detective Beckett" Kate frowned at the use of her maiden name, but Lanie didn't react to that. "One can never know being in your company." She was just teasing. It was so nice to be out again together. They should have done that earlier.

After sipping from their drinks Lanie was eager to catch up with Kate. She wanted to know what was going on in her friend's life and what – or better who – was responsible for her unexpected light mood.  
"So, what's on, girl? You seem to be rather happy these days." Lanie stated to encourage her friend to give her some bits of information. Kate frowned strangely as if she hadn't realized to be happy at all. Then this was maybe something only friends could see.  
"Lanie, I'm just glad my hard work finally paid off and we are going to have the cold case unit I had requested shortly after being transferred to the 21st as Captain." Yeah sure, Lanie had already heard about that and she was glad for her friend.  
"Congrats, Kate. But you know that this only means for you to do even more work, don't you? Haven't I told you that you should rather get a private life than more of work life?" Kate was rolling her eyes on her.

"I have a private life. In fact I got to know some new neighbors of mine."  
'There we go. I knew it,' Lanie thought to herself.  
She was quite pleased with herself about being right that there was someone.  
"Tell me," she rested her head on her hand to show Kate that she was all ears.  
"I met them at the elevator ride some days ago. They live on the same floor I live on and had just moved in the other weekend. Nate is so sweet. A real whirlwind you could say." So, Nate then, but what a strange way to describe a guy.  
"...and he has the brightest blue eyes I have ever seen. Alex invited me for a cup of coffee to thank me helping them with their grocery bags."

Wait, another guy? But what was Kate on there? With her luck probably a gay couple. "...and we talked for some time. It was a bit strange because I felt nearly, well I think you could say that I felt at home. We hugged at parting and I promised to visit again soon for a tea party."  
Tea party? Was this a fancy new code for a threesome? Now could it get any weirder? Maybe they weren't gay after all. Lanie looked at her friend in puzzlement, her mouth slightly ajar. She desperately needed more information. Kate must have realized that Lanie was staring at her confused.  
"What's the matter?"  
"Girl, what are you on? And why didn't you tell me earlier? Give me all the dirty details!"  
"It's just a family. I didn't know you'd like to hear about me getting to know a family. Usually you are only interested in me dating or not dating any guys." So this was not about dating or some weird sex stuff? Lanie was even more confused.  
"And Nate and Alex are no guys for dating? Are they gay?" Kate burst out laughing, obviously not intending to share with Lanie what was so funny.  
Lanie decided to wait for her friend to calm down. In the meantime she downed the rest of her drink. After Kate's laughter had slowly ebbed away it was time to get some answers.

"Finished?" Lanie questioned. Kate nodded still chuckling a bit.  
"Lanie, they are really not for dating. Nate is barely three years old. And Alex is his mother. Sorry I didn't make that clear."  
"Are you telling me that you were slobbering over the eyes of a kid before?"  
Lanie was quite shocked. Kate sipped at her drink innocently.  
"I just like them," she then answered shrugging her shoulders and rolling the straw between her fingers.  
"They are nice and I think we could be friends. Nate is a sweet boy." Lanie couldn't help but stare at her friend, who was smiling softly and kept going.  
"I didn't know kids his age can count already, did you? But maybe he is special. You just have to like him. I'm pretty sure he has everybody twisted around his finger in a bit. He has something in his eyes you just want to hug him and protect him, from whatever evil there is in the world." Lanie couldn't believe it. Was this her friend Kate Beckett sitting before her? Maybe she has been replaced by some aliens?

"Woah, girl, stop it there. Do you even realize you are talking about a three year old? We are on a girl's night here and all you do is to ramble about those new neighbors of yours and a kid." Lanie had to make her stop.  
Kate was starting to really annoy her with that weird talking about some kid. It wasn't enough most of her friends were married by now, happy with children and not being able to talk about anything else but diapers, the newest acquisition in their children's vocabulary or how to choose the right preschool. Now even Kate started with this. It wasn't like she wasn't happy that Kate had made some new friends. But this? She could understand that the thoughts of parents only circled around their kids most of the time but Kate hadn't even got kids of her own.

Sure, she had been married, but if anyone had asked Lanie then, she would have been pretty sure that Kate would never get a baby with Motorcycle Boy. Josh had been flying around the world helping people while Kate had been busy burying herself in one case after the other. There would have never been time for children. It was nearly miraculous they got married in the first place. Lanie was actually still surprised how quickly the both of them had taken the next step in their relationship, after months of only dating every now and then. She had thought, or maybe even hoped, that the incident and being shot may have played a catalytic role for Kate to change her life for the better. But in the end it had been very clear that Kate had probably only rushed in something she didn't actually had her heart in because of the traumatic experience before.

It had been all the same like before, Kate hiding herself, except for it to be on a new level. And it let to not only her being hurt badly, but especially Josh who had tried hard for over a year to make it work. Maybe he had not been persistent enough. As it had seemed, Kate was even mostly relieved when it was over but also deeply hurt. Lanie hadn't been very successful in getting Kate to talk about it. But as far as she could tell, Kate had blamed herself for her failed marriage and not matching her former high ideal of 'happily ever after'. She had blamed herself for being too damaged to love, or even being loved by someone. It had taken some time and a good amount of money spent on some therapist for Kate to get over her divorce.

And sometimes Lanie wasn't sure if she really had. Still after years she didn't even try to find someone special. Besides some casual dating now and then, even sex sometimes, as far as she could tell, she had not been in any kind of serious relationship ever since. She put her whole life on the job instead. Well, she was a good cop, really good actually, but that doesn't mean she didn't deserve to have a private life and be happy, does it?

As Lanie watched her friend thoroughly she believed to recognize a hint of the sought happiness in her. Kate tilted her head to the beat of the music at the club and seemed rather relaxed. Now that she had stopped talking about the kid, Lanie was able to relax too.  
"Care to dance?" she suggested. Without waiting for an answer she got up and dragged Kate to the dance floor.

Later they slipped in their booth again ordering new drinks to even out their fluid loss due to the dancing. Kate seemed to be having a good time so Lanie decided to take her chances and dig a little.  
"So, tell me, did you see this Greg guy again? Maybe offered him some coffee or a shake?" she suggestively raised her eyebrows. Kate looked puzzled, as though she didn't even remember Greg.  
"Greg? No, I haven't seen him again. He was kind of boring. We didn't have anything to talk about."  
"I wasn't speaking about talking, honey." Lanie laughed at Kate, who was rolling her eyes. "Girl, you need to have some fun!" she got serious. She didn't understand how Kate could live that way. "These are our best years. You know what they say, the fourties are the new twenties?"  
More eyes rolling there but Lanie knew Kate wasn't really annoyed so she went on.  
"You don't need to look for a relationship or something if you don't want to. But it would be healthier for you if you actually started to enjoy yourself from time to time. And you know what I mean. Not the intellectual kind of enjoying but more the physical way." Kate started to frown. Now, she had to be careful but she went all in. "When was the last time you were with a guy, Kate?"  
Kate shot her a none-of-your-business-look but that was already enough of an answer. Lanie sighed and ordered another drink.

"Don't worry about me. I'm fine. But I've learned that a certain detective at work is quite jealous. Seems he found out my best friend was seeing someone else. He was grumpy the whole last week, even with me. I think you may want to talk about that one."  
Kate obviously wanted to turn the tables. Lanie huffed.  
"Well, Javi may have seen me having a coffee with a friend and gotten the wrong impression." She remembered the day and how mad she had been about her boyfriend jumping to conclusions instead of talking to her. So she had let him suffer some days.  
"Guys.", she sighed with a small smile, "tend to overreact on coffee dates even after years when they clearly should know you better."  
"Yeah, guess he would appreciate a more secure relationship, so he didn't need to worry about those things. Can you blame him? He is waiting for years now for you to eventually make the move." Oh, that perfidious detective friend of hers. Lanie could see right through it. Kate only wanted to piss her off to get out of the talk.  
"Don't think I can't see what you are trying there, Missie." Lanie narrowed her eyes and pointed at Kate. "I know you for almost twenty years now and I won't fall for that. But I'm not mean or something so I'll suggest we drop those topics for now. We can talk about it another time. I'd rather wanna have some fun tonight."

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**Author's note**: I'm still looking for a beta. So if you happen to be interested or just can't stand any of the mistakes you may have found in my writing, please let me know. Even if not, I would be pleased if you took the time to share your opinion on the story and this chapter by reviewing.


	3. A new friend

**Author's note**: Thanks again to all who read, reviewed, followed and/or favorited this story. Knowing that you are out there encourages me to do my best in further developing the story. Thanks especially to the guest reviewer who's justified critique I will keep in mind.

A special thank goes to annem57, who volunteered in betaing. I'm really grateful because I know my writing can use your help. Thank you very much.

On the story: It's about time now to get some insight into the life of Nate and his Mom. Since people don't reflect on their life all the time only in favor of some readers to understand everything, I tried to pick a scene which brings up relevant topics concerning the story we are slowly getting to know.

For all the people who are waiting for Castle to appear: sorry to disappoint you (again), but you have to wait a little longer. Please keep patient and stick with me. It would be too early, trust me.

**Disclaimer**: I still do neither own the show nor any of the characters. I only own the idea to this plot which I borrow the characters for.

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**Chapter 3 – A new friend**

_**Alex' POV**_

**Wednesday, May 12****th**** 2021**

Can one fall in love with a kid? Alex never would have thought that until the day she had found out about being pregnant with Nate. That had been the day she began to love her little boy. A love that had even grown the day she had seen him smiling at her shortly after he had been born, when she held him in her arms for the very first time. Within the blink of an eye she had forgotten all the pain she had gone through to get there and it had been all about him. He had been so tiny, so helpless and so sweet one couldn't help but love him. This was true for his father and his grandparents as well. But they were family. They were kind of bound to love him or at least care for him. But Katie? She only got to know him a week ago and appeared to be completely smitten by now. Maybe she was wrong, but Alex was pretty sure Katie wasn't only 'good with children' but she was in fact 'very good with Nate'.

Katie had claimed to have no experience with kids that age but Alex didn't know if she could believe her. The other women took Nate seriously. She talked to him like he was a full person, not that half-person-half-babydoll way so many other people, including well-experienced Nannies and some preschool teachers, would talk to him. And this may be the reason Nate loved her back, wholeheartedly as Alex could tell. He trusted her. And Alex trusted her as well. She knew Katie was a good person. She had known right from the day of their encounter in the elevator. Strange as it was, she had felt comfortable with her right from the start. It had been like meeting an old friend or something, as though they knew each other. You only needed to start where you had left off years before. Her instincts had told her that Katie would be good for Nate. And her instincts were the things that made her so good as a journalist. Alex knew she could trust them.

Smiling, she watched the both of them laying out the doll's china set in planning a big tea party for all the stuffed animals Nate had dragged from his own room to the living room and set up in a circle. They had gotten her a tea cup as well, which she was now balancing on her belly, while the little girl in there obviously wanted to kick it away. She knew only a month from now life in the apartment wouldn't be so calm anymore and they wouldn't get all too much sleep at night. Not that she was sleeping very well at the moment, but it would be a whole different thing. For now Alex only wanted to savor her time with Nate before his little sister joined them. Oddly as it was, it didn't bother her that Katie was with them a lot lately. She wondered if they would see their neighbor more often in the future. She was pretty sure they would.

"Refill?" Nate waved with his china teapot to get her attention.

"I would be pleased," Alex answered politely playing along. "But you haven't gotten Katie anything yet." She pointed out. Nate turned nodding.

"Sit down, Katie. Drink too," he encouraged his new friend. Katie did as she was told, sitting down on the couch right beside Alex. Nate handed her one of the tiny teacups and pretended to pour tea in it as he did with his mother's cup as well. Then he went over to his tea drinking zoo of stuffed animals to give them a refill as well.

Alex smiled. She noticed Katie was smiling too. "You don't have any children of your own, do you?" Alex addressed her guest.

Katie answered by shaking her head. In a kind of sadly way, as Alex might say. Maybe she wasn't able to have children? She shouldn't have asked. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to be too personal."

"No no, it's okay. I just..." the other woman started off but didn't continue then, as though she was considering how much she was willing to share. Her look wandered thoughtfully to Nate.

Alex contemplated about how to change the topic best, when Katie unexpectedly started to speak: "No, I have no kids. I was married once but it wasn't right."

She seemed to think about her marriage or some related memories. "I guess it was best for us, that we didn't have kids. It would not have been fair to them."

Alex could tell that those memories must still be hurting her, so she didn't push the topic.

"Katie, are you Caty Cat?" her little boy asked, who had obviously ended the tea party and climbed on the other woman's lap. His brows were knitted together while he was considering it as he looked Katie over.

"Hm?" Katie looked at Nate quizzically. She seemed confused as though she didn't know what the question was about or if it was directed at her in the first place.

Nate loved the adventures of Caty and her crew. They were from his Gramps. Nate possessed the whole series of books and even a stuffed, black cat with big eyes that he had named after his most favorite character Caty Cat. He used to take it with him everywhere and even couldn't sleep without it. One time they had thought they had lost Caty Cat going for a walk. Nate had been crying his eyes out and wouldn't even go to bed. Luckily, after hours and hours of searching all along the way they had been going in the afternoon, they finally found the stuffed animal again. It had obviously fallen out of the stroller. Since that day they always attached Caty Cat to Nate's backpack by a cord when going out.

"I don't think so, honey. Does Katie look like a cat?" she asked her son and then turned to their guest to explain that the named cat was the main character in Nate's favorite children's book. Nate shook his head but wrinkled his nose thinking. He didn't seem convinced. Alex sighed. That would be something if her son found a real person to project the character of his heroine on her.

"But Gramps says that heroes often have a.. an... ali.. a...," he struggled with the word but she didn't help him out and patiently waited before he settled for: "...are somebody else in times. You know like Batman or something. Superman is a journalist just like you, Mommy. And Spiderman is a photographer like Daddy," he stated matter-of-factly.

Who was she to argue with her son? Alex looked over to Katie for help.

"I think you are just like Caty Cat," Nate now seemed to be even more certain about his idea than before.

"Why do you think that, sweetie?" Katie suddenly asked probably to not disappoint him just right away.

"Caty helps people. You are nice and you helped Mommy," he looked sideways obviously thinking about his idea. Then he smiled at Katie again. "And you have those big eyes too," he completed comparing Katie to the cat.

Katie still smiled at the boy obviously thinking about how to answer his question. Alex wondered how she would tell him that she wasn't who he wanted her to be. It wasn't easy to talk this pigheaded little boy out of something, especially when hope was shining from his bright blue eyes like that. Who would want to disappoint a kid?

"Yeah, Nate you have a point there. Heroes often have aliases for their daily life. It could be, but..." Katie began, leaning towards him a serious expression on her face, lowering her voice so that Alex was hardly able to hear her words: "... then I guess your Gramps has also told you, that heroes do not tell anybody about it, because they couldn't be heroes and helping people anymore, if everybody knew who they were," she conspiratorially winked at him, obviously refraining from telling Nate that she couldn't be Caty Cat because that was only a fictional character.

Alex wasn't sure if it was, what she had wanted her to say, but Nate seemed to accept it for an answer and dropped the topic while smiling satisfied. So she looked at Katie and mouthed 'thank you', while the other woman returned her look, obviously a little insecure if she had done the right thing. Alex smiled slightly in giving her ok, which caused her neighbor's smile to widen in response, if only a little bit.

"What about some brownies to serve with our tea?" Alex then suggested and was about to get up, when Katie stopped her.

"Let me get it," she suggested.

Alex nodded in response. Katie already knew where the dishes were and the Brownies were placed on a cake plate on the counter covered by a bell jar, which she would be able to find easily. "Ok, but only because you nearly belong to family," Alex laughed at the other woman. "Ordinary guests are strictly forbidden to take over the tasks of the host in this place."

Alex had intended to let it sound jokingly, but somehow there was also a bit of truth to it. She was tempted to consider Katie closer than some random guest, who came by visiting them. She wasn't just any neighbor or something; after only one week, four visits actually, as Alex realized now. Reason told her to be more cautious. She didn't know anything about the woman who had just gotten up and was working in the kitchen apparently not only getting the brownies but also some real tea for all of them. Nevertheless, her gut told her that Katie was to pass, she liked her. She trusted her. It even seemed to be right for her to be around, as she was a new friend they had made. Now Alex mentally shook her head at herself. Maybe the pregnancy hormones made her a little too emotional lately. At least Ben, her husband, would say so. He had practically laughed at her, when she had told him about their new friend excitedly after their encounter on the elevator. He knew that she had been worrying about how long it would take them to get to know new people and make new friends after moving back to the city. But she could tell that on meeting Katie, he had liked her as well.

Alex sighed at the thought of Ben. He had been gone on business for four days now. As a freelance photographer, he sometimes was assigned to jobs in other parts of the country or even overseas. This had been the case ever since they met and his success even allowed them to keep up a fairly high standard of living, but sometimes it was hard on her. Especially now as she was so far along with her pregnancy and Nate was keeping her busy all day. And she just missed falling asleep and waking up with him at her side. She was glad she would have him back the next day to lean on. She briefly closed her eyes, smiling at the thought of him. He had even put off any possible jobs which would take him outside of the city for the upcoming three months to be here when his little girl would be born and to help her the first weeks. Alex sometimes wondered how she had ever deserved to find someone that special, someone who truly loved her and would do anything for her. She was quite a lucky woman.

It wasn't the case that they had not had any rough times. In fact Alex hat been adamant in not giving in his attempts to take her to a date for nearly a year. They had met at work and since Alex had set up her rule number one to never ever mix work and feelings as a teenager, she had not been willing to give in before her internship with the magazine had ended. She smiled in remembrance of how stubborn she and how persuasive Ben had been back then, until she had finally realized that she had broken her rule long before. Not going on a date with Ben, had not prevented her from developing deep and earnest feelings for him. Alex was glad they had made it. She was glad, that Ben had not given up. From her present perspective she wasn't able to imagine how her life would be without him and their family.

Lost in thoughts she padded her belly as Katie approached her. "Everything alright?" she seemed to be worried. "You don't look very well," she stated.

"I'm just a little tired. Nate keeps me awake at daytime and the little girl in here seems to start her daily gym lessons the soon I finally settle in bed in the evening."

If only Ben would be here. Him talking to her belly had always helped that before.

"And you miss your husband to help you," Katie stated very observant as Alex noticed.

"Yeah, I do," she admitted. "But I have only one night to go. He'll be back tomorrow and I am planning on sleeping in every day for at least a whole week from then on," Alex grinned.

"You know, if you ever need anything," Katie paused obviously giving her offer a second thought or at least trying to work out a proper formulation, "... or I could help you somehow with anything, you can call me anytime or you simply come over and knock on my door. My roster may be rather unpredictable sometimes but I would be glad to adapt it when needed."

"Thanks Katie, I may come back to that some day. Normally it isn't as difficult because Ben can stay at home very often, my Dad and my Grandmother also like to pay Nate and me regular visits not talking about my parents-in-law yet." Yeah, she had a great family. They would always be there for them, when they could.

"Sometimes it all hits you at once, you know," she continued considering her current situation: "This week is a little off because of Ben being on a business trip, my Dad coming back from his latest tour only by the weekend and Grandmother having her usual rehearsal week."

Katie nodded in understanding, already turning her attention back to Nate. Alex could tell that her offer had been sincere and that she would probably be there for them too, if they would let her.

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**Author's note**: Yeah, one piece of fluff, I know. Keep in mind, we are only starting to get into the story. Anyway, I hope you liked the chapter. Please take the time to review.


	4. Latenight dawnings

**Author's note**: Thanks again to all who read, reviewed, followed and/or favorited this story. You're really motivating me.

A special thank goes to my beta annem57, who's amazingly fast at correcting my chapters. I'm really grateful for your help and tips.

**Disclaimer**: I still do neither own the show nor any of the characters. I only own the idea to this plot which I borrow the characters for.

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_To my two lovely kids, who actually inspired this chapter._

**Chapter 4 – Latenight dawnings**

_**Kate's POV**_

**Sunday, May 16****th**** 2021**

Kate zipped the suit bag closed, which was used to protect her uniform. She was glad to be able to put it away again. She rarely wore it and occasions like this day's were the ones she disliked the most. In the afternoon she had been to the memorial service for her former superior officer.

Montgomery had died in the line of duty ten years before. There had been some pretty important people to the service this time, but she would have preferred not to go there. Kate was aware of her duty not only as a fellow cop back then but she also owed it to him as a friend as he had been her mentor for a long time.

Evelyn Montgomery and their children seemed to be doing very well. They had apparently found a way to deal with it. It must have been hard on them, especially on the kids, as far as Kate could tell from her own experience.

She went to the liquor cabinet and pulled herself a glass of scotch groaning, when she looked at her watch. Ten years exactly and she still seemed to be able to hear the roaring echo of the gun shots ringing in her ears, watch him go down, desperately try to get a clear shot and get to him, before she feels the burning sensation in her chest and goes down herself.

Kate looked fascinated at the golden liquid she was swirling in the glass. Ten years had gone by. Ten years and everything had changed. Ten years and somehow nothing has changed as well. That night would never leave her alone. Depending on the point of view Montgomery had died because of her not backing down in pursuing her mother's murder case. But from another point of view she had almost died because of Montgomery as well, which nobody would get to know, ever.

She was about to take a sip of her drink when she heard frantic knocking at the door. Who would come to visit at that hour? It couldn't be Espo or Ryan. They had been out at a bar for a drink with her after the service but then rushed off to their significant others. Besides, they would have called first.

Kate put the glass down on the counter, which caused a clanking sound to emerge. Maybe the memories floating through her mind had made her a little paranoid for the time being, because without thinking Kate jumped to the dresser to retrieve her gun from the safe locker. After tucking it in the waistband at her back, just in case, she went to get the door, which was still being knocked at. On opening it she came to face her rather agitated neighbor Ben.

"Ben, what is it?"

"Aw, good. I'm so glad you're here. Would you mind to come over to our place?"

What had happened? Kate played out all sorts of possible scenarios her cop mind came up with at an instant, from robbery to kidnapping and even murder. Alex. Nate! She reached back for her gun, eying the other end of the corridor, expecting a blood covered suspect turning up any minute. In the meanwhile she was trying to make sense of Ben's rambling.

"… so we need to go to the hospital and I didn't know who to turn to at this late hour."

Wait, what was it about? Maybe she didn't quite get everything he had said. "Please Ben, I need you to calm down," she put on her talking-to-the-family-of-the-victim-voice. "Just take a deep breath and then you tell me exactly what happened," she gave him an encouraging smile.

"I didn't notice at first in the evening, but when I left Nate's room after kissing him good night and tucking him in, Alex wasn't feeling well. She didn't want to talk about it, but after some time watching her I knew she was in pain."

No robbery. No abduction. No dead body. Kate released a breath, she hadn't even known to be holding, when she realized that Ben wasn't talking about some sort of crime. But her relieve didn't last long, since she worried for Alex.

"I think it's something about the baby, but she says she only feels a little sick. The way I know her, she is more likely downplaying the pain. I told her we should go to the hospital just to make sure, but she won't listen because she doesn't want to leave Nate alone or wake him up to take him with us," Ben only took a short pause before he went on.

"So I convinced her to ask you come over, taking care of Nate so we could go to the hospital. If there might be something wrong with Alex or the baby I don't want to take any chances. Will you come, Katie?" he begged looking at her pleading. Kate let go of her 'cop mode'.

"Sure. Just give me a minute to grab some things and go back to your wife. I'll be coming."

When Ben had left, she quickly deposited the gun in the safe again, grabbed her purse, a random book from the bookshelf and the blanket from the couch. Locking the door behind her, she made her way to the other apartment across the floor.

Alex, who was lying on the couch, really seemed to be a little pale, when Kate stepped into the living room. Ben was on the phone talking agitatedly.

"How are you feeling?" Kate approached the young woman, who gave her a weak smile.

"It seems our little one wants to join us a little earlier than expected." Kate only nodded.

"Thanks for coming. Could you maybe stay here just in case Nate wakes up while we are not here?"

"Of course I will. That's why I'm here," Kate showed her the blanket, she had brought along. The pain must have gotten intense because Alex only nodded while blinking rapidly. At that moment Ben joined them worry showing in his eyes but a reassuring smile on his lips.

"Ready to go? The car is waiting downstairs." Alex didn't answer right away.

"One minute", she said and after a moment pausing to concentrate on breathing she continued: "Go, get...," when Alex took another breath, Kate unconsciously started to breathe along with her for support. "…the bag."

Ben disappeared to the hallway and came back with a carry-all after only a short time. Wrapping his right arm round her waist and holding her tight Ben helped his wife get up to leave for the hospital as quickly as possible.

Alex paused at the doorstep and turned to Kate. "If Nate asks, you can tell him, that we had to go get the baby. In the kitchen is enough food for breakfast or a snack if you like to have something. Please make yourself at home and… thanks, Katie," she smiled gratefully.

"You don't need to thank me. We'll be fine, don't worry. Go and concentrate on that little one there," she gestured at Alex' belly.

After Alex and Ben had left the apartment Kate tiptoed to Nate's room to check on the little boy, who was still sleeping tightly. She watched his chest rise and fall on a calm and regular basis for some time. No wonder people used to describe sleeping kids as angels. He appeared to perfectly impersonate angelic innocence and peace.

Kate silently closed the door again and went back to the living room deciding to go for her book. She took it up from the coffee table to see what it was about. It was a love novel, which she already had read several times. Shaking her head she decided to look for another book of the Walkers instead of rereading this one. Judging on the amount of books, which had finally found their way into the shelves, that covered two of the living room walls and were running down the corridor leading to the bedrooms and the study as well, either Ben or Alex or both of them really were passionate reader.

The lowest level of the shelves were filled with all different kinds of Children's books and the rest of the books were sorted by genre and within alphabetically. Kate decided to try some science fiction novel which she didn't know yet. She took it to the couch, where she curled up, making herself comfy by wrapping up in the blanket she had brought along.

The story started of pretty weird about a whole load of black market cattle being delivered to some western scenery planet. A western in space? Kate shook her head about the story at first but since the characters seemed to be pretty interesting she decided to stick with it and soon she became totally absorbed by it.

After some time Kate could hear the sound of tiny feet shuffling towards the living room.

"Mommy?" Nate asked with a small voice, holding Caty Cat tightly pressed to his chest while he rubbed his eyes sleepily. Kate put the book down and got up to embrace him in a hug.

"No sorry, sweetie. It's me, Katie. Your Mommy and Daddy had to go get the baby. So I'll stay with you a bit and then we go and see your baby sister in the morning." Nate seemed to be thinking while he cuddled himself into Kate.

"Kay," he maybe understood.

"Don't you want to go to bed again, sweetie?"

He shook his head. "Can't."

Obviously a 3-year-old could only form one-word-sentences at night. She thought hard. What did her Mom do, when she woke up late at night and couldn't go back to sleep?

"Would you like some milk?" He nodded for reply.

"Ok, I'm gonna get you some. Just sit down on the couch. I'll be coming back." She sat him down on the couch so he could lean against the cushion. She tucked him in the blanket tightly just in case he would fall asleep before she would return from the kitchen.

Kate had warmed a mug of milk, adding some honey and cinnamon and plopping a marshmallow in it, when she returned to the living room. If anything Nate was more awake than before. She sighed to herself being pretty sure a boy his age should sleep at that time of night instead of starting to play with a toy train on the coffee table. Where did he even get that from?

"Here is your milk, sweetie." She placed the mug next to him on the table.

"Wanna play with me?" he looked up at her puppy eyes all on. So much for nightly one-word-sentences. That's not what it was supposed to be.

"No thanks, sweetie. I'd rather suggest you drink your milk and I'll tuck you in again. What do you think?"

He pouted but reached for the mug. He seemed to like the milk. That was at least something.

When Nate had finished, she suggested that they both brought the empty mug back in the kitchen. Kate hoped getting him away from the toy train might help to raise his willingness to go back to bed. But it didn't work well. She let him from the kitchen directly to the bedrooms.

"I don't wanna sleep," the boy stated.

"But then you will be all tired-out tomorrow and your Mommy will be sad, when we can't go and visit her and the baby."

Maybe guilt would work. Nate pouted again but he seemed to get the reasoning because he kept walking beside her to his bedroom. Kate gave him an appreciative smile.

"Do you want me to read you a story?" she asked the boy when she handed him Caty Cat as he lay down in his bed. His eyes lit up. But then he seemed to have changed his mind, shook his head and said that he wanted to: "Listen to Caty Cat."

She knew they were his favorite books. Maybe he had an audio too?

"Can you show me where it is?" Nate sat up and pointed to the shelf.

"There."

As she looked closely she now could see, that there was a hi-fi unit which she had not seen before.

Kate went over and switched the power own. The unit came to life and the display lit up. She navigated through the menu to find the files stored on it and soon found several audio files named something with Cat's Crew the title of the book series about Caty Cat and her friends. She picked the first one in the list and got it started. When she heard some music and twittering throughout the small room she realized, that the speakers were hidden in two of the corners of the room's smaller side, just to create the perfect dolby sound for a children's room. She sat herself onto the edge of Nate's bed.

"Just lean back and enjoy the story. I'll be sitting with you until you can sleep."

She smiled softly at the boy, who nodded in return and did as she had said. While he sang along the title song introducing Cat and her friends, Kate stroke his hair and hoped the story would really help him falling asleep.

"_The sky was painted in all shades of red and pink and orange from the sunset, when..."_ Kate's stomach seemed to turn into knots when she recognized the familiar voice reading or more like telling the story of another adventure of Caty Cat.

'Castle!' she could stop herself from calling it out loud just in time. Her eyes went wide with surprise. Since when did Castle write children's stories? At least that appeared to be the most probable explanation for him to record one as an audio book.

She looked at Nate, who had closed his eyes and seemed to relax with every sentence he heard. Sometimes his lips moved mouthing the text along, which he must have heard a lot of times before. While the sound of Castle's warm voice changed with every character he was reading, Kate kept watching Nate as he was slowly falling asleep again.

Little one was a Castle fan then. She smiled at the thought. She had been one too. That was something they had in common. And Nate had compared her to one of Castle's character she realized. Well, after all that wasn't so wrong, only the wrong series of books. Maybe she should tell Alex about the Nikki Heat novels. That must have been one interesting coincidence. Suddenly a thought crossed Kate's mind. Alex. No, that couldn't be, could it? Alex would be about the right age but no, that wasn't possible. Or maybe was it?

Kate got up, suddenly being a little nervous. She paced through the room and stopped in front of Nate's shelf. Next to a couple of books, there were also two traditional photo albums. It wasn't possible, she repeated telling herself. Well, at least it wasn't likely. New York was a really big city. But if there was an opportunity to definitely rule it out than she would take it. She was a cop after all. So she reached for one of the albums only to suddenly loose her confidence. But why shouldn't she open it?

"_... reason why Cat, Darius, Tyler and Rita decided not to wait any longer."_

Kate shook her head. As though Castle himself was encouraging her to do it.

Aw, what the hell! She flipped the album open, which started out at the print of a sonogram and went on with the very first picture of Nate as a baby and a printing of his tiny baby foot. Another picture showed Nate on the arm of Alex, who is smiling widely down to him. It was quite the picture of motherly love, which actually also the caption said. The next one featured him being held up high in the air by his Dad.

And then there he was, the "proud grandfather". She couldn't help but stare at the picture shaking her head slightly in disbelief. Castle indeed was Nate's grandfather. Now there was no doubt anymore. Kate looked over to the sleeping boy then back to the album again and yet another time at Nate. From all the families in all the apartment buildings in Manhattan, she had managed to run right into Alexis'.

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**Author's note**: So, finally we've literally heard of Castle. And to make up for the long wait, next chapter will be his POV. How about showering me with reviews to motivate me getting the chapter online soon?


	5. Who is this Katie?

**Author's note**: To all who asked or wondered: yes, Alex is indeed Alexis (her future POVs will also use the name Alexis). As to why she and Kate did not recognize each other this is a troublesome – I am aware of that - yet vital aspect to this story. There may be plenty of reasons why it isn't likely but I know from people who made similar experiences. More than ten years can be a very long time and I get both of them also didn't expect to meet each other. If you think it's believable or not, I'd ask you to just assume (accept) it for the sake of the story.

Now I really like to thank my beta annem57, who always very quickly works through my chapters and is part of the reason I actually can update at this pace. I of course also like to thank all of you guys, who stick with me and this story by following or favoriting it. And I guess you know that reviews fuel the writer's motivation.

**Disclaimer**: I still do not own Castle or any of the characters, but I borrow them to play out the plot to this story-idea which I actually do own as far as I know.

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**Chapter 5 – Who is this Katie?**

_**Castle's POV**_

**Monday, May 17****th**** 2021**

It was still dark outside – well, as dark as it ever was in Manhattan - when Rick woke up to a familiar tweeting sound. He closed his eyes again but reached over to the nightstand to get his phone. He nearly got blinded when he opened his eyes and the display lit up. 5:30 a.m. Who would text him that early? There was only one possible person.

Alexis! Alarmed by the thought of his daughter being hurt or in trouble, he was completely awake at an instant and sat up against the headboard. He groaned because of a sudden headache. Maybe his head wasn't all that awake just yet. He ran his fingers through his hair and grabbed the phone again.

'_Joanne Darleen Walker - 4:37am – 19.2″- 8.6 lbs. – Congrats, Gramps!_' the text said, showing the picture of a cute wrinkly baby face as well. He let the breath out which he hadn't been aware of holding before. Everything was alright. His daughter had gotten her little baby girl already. He looked at the picture again spotting similarities to Alexis in Baby Joanne's features. All tiredness had left him, and a bright smile occupied his expression.

Nothing to worry, about except he may have been a little hurt that she hadn't called him earlier, when going into labour for instance. He was well aware that she probably had his most favorite son-in-law Ben with her for support. But hell, he was her father. He would have gotten up in the middle of the night to be there for his little girl, even if it was only to take care of Nate so she could go to the hospital without any reason to worry. Wait. Nate. Who took care of him? They wouldn't have taken him to the hospital with them, would they?

He speed dialed his daughter, who answered after three rings.

"Hi Dad, so you got our text? Sorry for not calling you, but first, but we were kind of busy," Alexis paused to breathe for a moment but not long enough to let him respond, "... and then we didn't want to wake you so we decided to settle for texting. But you are the first to know."

"It's fine Pumpkin, you know you can call me any time. How are you anyway? Is everything ok?" She sounded a little tired, but that was probably to be expected.

"Yeah it's just been a long day or a short night so..." she trailed off. Did she just yawn?

"And is my busy son-in-law with you?" he wanted to know.  
"Sure Ben's here. He's holding her at the moment, so he can't speak to you."

"And what about Nate? Is he with you too? Did you leave him at home? Who's taking care of him?" Rick realized that he needed to slowdown his questioning a little bit, as he sensed ad hint of annoyance at the other end of the line.

"Dad, Nate's fine, don't worry. He's with Katie." She at least sounded irritated.

"Who is this Katie? Some teenage babysitter?" Yeah great, so much for slowing down on the questions but he didn't like the thought of a teenager taking care of the three year old throughout the whole night.

"She is our neighbor, Mrs. Davidson, you remember? I've told you before. Nate loves her." Maybe this affection was just a reason to worry even more. Alexis had indeed mentioned her neighbor before but they had only known her for what, a week or two? What if the woman was going to kidnap Nate for ransom or worse and their little boy would go with her trustingly only because he 'loved' her?

Rick shook his head on his own thoughts. Maybe he should switch to a different genre. He seemed to be incapable of not seeing crime and murder everywhere. But this was about his family so he wanted to make sure.

"And you trust her?" He practically could hear his daughter rolling her eyes on his question.  
"Sure I do, Dad. I wouldn't have her babysit him if I didn't. And she is good with him."  
"But you know, you could have called me," He stated carefully avoiding to sound hurt or something.

"And wait at least another half an hour for you to make your way to our apartment? Trust me, it was easier and less stressful for all of us to just cross the floor and knock at her door. If she hadn't been there I would have called you immediately."

"So your father is only second best to some neighbor?" It just slipped out before he knew it. He probably sounded offended and yes, maybe he could admit that he was a little hurt.

As he only heard a silent groan on the other end of the line Rick realized that he may have overstepped and decided to quickly change the subject before his daughter would hang up on him.

"So, how's our little Joanne then? Is she behaving herself?" He knew Alexis would be smiling on his question and when she answered he knew they were good.

"Yeah she is. She is probably the most perfect little girl in the world. And Ben is over the moon. Judging about the way he looks at Joanne he may love her even more than me." Alexis voice softened as she was probably looking over to her husband to tease him with the comment.

"That I have to see for myself. I can't imagine that there really could be any girl more adorable than my little baby girl," Rick stated. He could remember that moment when he had held Alexis in his arms for the first time as if it was only yesterday. Those squinting little eyes, the most sweetest pout and all those ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes.  
"Thanks Dad."

"Do you mind if I come to visit in about," Rick took a quick look on his watch "... in about two and a half hours?"  
"That would be great, maybe she'll be awake by then," Alexis answered.  
"Should I go and pick up Nate first?" he offered to at least be helpful in some way.  
"No, you don't need to. Katie is going to bring him in right after breakfast."

Although he was tempted he decided not to address the Katie-topic again.  
"So I'll see you then," he instead only said.  
"Bye, Dad."  
"Bye, Sweetie."

While his coffee was dribbling into a mug, he called his publisher. Laura wasn't very amused to be wakened at that early hour unless it was because of the new book.

"You know, it's two weeks early?" she complained. Even though she couldn't see it, he shrugged and took a sip of his coffee.  
"Yeah, you know you can't tell a baby when to get born. But I'm sure you can make it work anyway." Laura knew his ways. He could hear her sigh.  
"I'll do my best."  
"Good girl," he grinned. It was part of the deal and they both knew it. Laura didn't have another choice anyway.  
"By the way," he added, "it's Joanne Darleen Walker, a sweet girl. Thanks, Laura."  
"Whatever, Richard," he heard her slightly annoyed voice through the speaker before the line went dead.

After he had put his phone down, Rick opened a certain drawer and lifted the preprint of the new children's book out. Taking up a pen and opening the cover he wrote a small wish out to his granddaughter. His _granddaughter_. How strange that sounded. Even though he had been a Granddad about three years now and he really adored Nate and loved spending time with him, he couldn't really get used to that grandparent-thing. It kind of felt odd. He even felt a little old because of it. But he wasn't old he assured himself. He could actually be a father again if he wanted to. He was far from being old. That's for sure. Looking at his reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall he wondered if he maybe should dye his hair.

On his way to the hospital he took a small detour. He needed to get that balloon. It had been a tradition for over twenty years now. Everytime Alexis had been ill or sad he'd gotten a pumpkin-balloon to cheer her up. He couldn't go there without the balloon, and although he hadn't needed those balloons the last years very often he knew exactly which shop stocked them. When he arrived at the hospital it was about ten minutes past 8. He was just in time. He knew which floor to go to, so he made a beeline for the elevator.

When Rick got off the elevator on the maternity floor a strange feeling hit him, turning his stomach. He wondered where it was coming from and why he suddenly felt a little insecure because there really was no reason to it. Was it because of the sound of some baby crying in one of the rooms or maybe the happy chatting from other early visitors?

It could also have been induced by this unnerving typical hospital smell. He didn't like hospitals that much. They all had this aura of pain. Not even the colorfully decorated walls of the maternity ward's corridor were able to mask that. He shrugged. Maybe the reason was much simpler - just his stomach complaining because he had skipped breakfast and instead decided to go for a second mug of coffee. He couldn't quite tell but something was in the air. His blessed writer mind seemed to fail him today in putting the story together.

Maybe he really should have eaten at least anything before coming here. He frowned. A nurse stopped him to ask what he wanted. "Walker. I'd like to visit my daughter Alexis Walker," he answered.

"Sure, it's room 714 but I think she is having breakfast in the lounge at the moment," nurse Dorothy, according to her name plate, pointed the corridor down to her left.

He would be seeing his little daughter with her own little daughter shortly. Suddenly he got all excited again. It was so hard to believe. But it shouldn't be that unbelievable since Alexis already had an amazing son. And now a girl too. Both, a boy and a girl. And in Ben also a husband, who really adored her. She had the perfect family and even though both of them had their jobs they made it work together. He had never achieved to have that. Not to say that he hadn't tried, he really had but his marriages hadn't been that successful.

Alexis hadn't had a bad or sad childhood though, that thing he knew for sure, but it also wasn't exact the kind of perfect family he had wished it to be sometimes. Given his mother's and his own experience he wondered how Alexis could have actually turned out that great in the first place. Not only was she a confident young woman but also committed to her job while a loving wife and perfect mother. His little girl had never ceased to amaze him ever since the day she had been born.

Rick got caught up in his thoughts walking down the corridor, when he suddenly spotted _her_. He blinked and looked again at the female figure which seemed so familiar. No way. That wasn't even possible. He shook his head to get rid of his silly thoughts putting on his best Grampa-smile instead, as he approached the small group at the lounge.

His not so little redhead was talking to an older woman in her late thirties or around forty maybe. Since that woman sat with her back facing him, he couldn't see her face. Maybe she was another new mother? But she was holding Nate on her arm and seemed to be talking with Alexis about something and judging on their proximity they seemed to know each other quite well. It had to be that helpful neighbor his daughter had been talking about. Well, at least she really had brought Nate along and didn't abduct him. So he could calm down for that matter now. What was her name then?

Alexis suddenly looked up and spotted him. "Dad!" she greeted smiling and waving a hand in his direction.

"Hi, Pumpkin. Nate, little one!"

At first the brunette didn't react at all, but then she let the boy down to the floor, who came flying into his arms without hesitation, while Rick couldn't lift his gaze from that mysterious woman. There was something about her. When she finally also turned around to face the new visitor he froze shell shocked.

Only a single word slipped from his tongue as he recognized her: "Beckett!?"

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**Author's note**: There it is, they're finally meeting. How will Kate react? Next POV will be hers. I'd love to read about your opinion on this chapter, so please take the time and seek out this nice little button which says "review" to leave me your feedback.


	6. Fight or flight

**Author's note**: Nearing 100 Follows. Just wow! Thanks to all of you. And special thanks go to my lovely beta annem57.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the show or any of the characters. They only thing I own rights to would be my plot idea, which I turned into this little story for you guys.

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**Chapter 6 – Fight or flight**

_**Kate's POV**_

**Monday, May 17****th**** 2021**

"We had pancakes with lots of syrup," Nate stated wrinkling his nose when he watched his mother eat scrambled eggs and toast for breakfast, "... and cocoa." Nate seemed to think about something. "Does the baby also eat eggs?" It seemed as though at the moment Nate couldn't think of anything more disgusting to eat than eggs. Kate needed to stifle her laughter at the grimace the boy on her lap was making.

"No. Joanne is too young to eat. She doesn't have any teeth yet," his mother softly explained, "She drinks milk."

"Mommy-milk?" He got a nod for reply. It seemed his parents had told him enough beforehand to prepare Nate for the life with his little sister.

"I like cocoa better." Both of them laughed at his comment.

When they had arrived half an hour before, they had found her with little Joanne on her arms and Ben at her side. Kate remembered smilingly how excited the boy was about his sister. Careful not to hurt her, he had caressed her and even given her a soft kiss. She had heard about older siblings being jealous over a new baby before but obviously Nate wasn't one of them. At least it didn't seem so.

While a friendly nurse had brought breakfast, Ben had to take the baby girl to the doctor's for her first check-up and vaccination. Nate hadn't been ready to let the baby go quite that soon but didn't want to leave his mother either. So she had assured him Joanne would be coming back right afterwards and that they would have a lot of time to spend together.

Kate smiled at the young woman sitting across her in the maternity ward. She really was impressed by her strength as you could barely see how exhausted she must have been. She had given birth to a little girl only a few hours before. And yet here she was, talking to visitors and playing with her son while having breakfast. Kate now took a closer look at her and shook her head slightly at the thought of how she hadn't been able to recognize Alex - Alexis actually - before.

It's a shame especially because of her profession. She is a detective for god's sake and should be able to notice important details. And she should definitely have recognized her. Sure, her hair was cut short to a modern hairstyle being probably very practical to a young mother who can't waste a lot of time on styling her hair. Kate must have been right when she at first had thought about the hair being dyed. It seemed to be still mostly red but somehow less red than she could remember. There was a lot of brown mixed into the color so it appeared to be more of a settled and calm reddish instead of the beaming, excited red it had been when Kate had met Alexis as a teenage girl.

Besides this, there was still that smile and her eyes. Those bright blue eyes Nate owned as well. They both had his eyes, she now acknowledged. Now that she knew for sure, Kate realized she could recognize Alexis' way of moving around and fidgeting in excitement when she was speaking at her usually fast pace. Why had she not seen it before? She remembered the familiar feeling she had had when they met at the elevator, but she would never have expected it to turn out the young mother was Castles daughter.

She hadn't heard from him or his family in the past ten years. Kate didn't like to admit it, but for some time she had avoided everything that had to do with Richard Castle. Luckily she hadn't had to deal with him. He had never approached her. And even the media had pretty quickly forgotten about the 'real Nikki Heat'.

Suddenly a thought struck her. Should she tell her? It was obvious that Alexis didn't know who she was. The other woman hadn't recognized Kate either. Maybe she should tell her. Yes, she was pretty sure she had to tell her. But how? 'Last night, when I was digging my nose into your stuff, I found out that I once knew your Dad, actually knew you as well' and 'I didn't know until yesterday, but we actually met before, when your Dad was following me at work ten years ago' didn't really seem to be the best choices. She needed to break it to her neighbour gently not to risk their relationship.

Maybe she should ask about those books of Nate and who authored them. Kate vaguely remembered that Alexis had told her, the books were from Nate's grandfather but she had assumed that he had given them to him as a present, not actually created. But then she'd need to pretend that she hadn't known before. Lying that way wasn't a fine option either. She realized that it was all a mess.

Kate looked down at the boy on her arm. He pressed a fluffy stuffed bear to his chest which he wanted to give to his newborn sister. At least he had decided that in the morning but now it seemed as though he didn't want to let it go right away. He looked a lot like his grandfather, especially because of the way he was showing puppy eyes at the moment to convince his mother to let him stay in hospital with her tonight.

Kate's thoughts got interrupted as she suddenly heard _his_ voice again. She knew this time it was real and didn't come through a speaker but just from behind her: "Hi Pumpkin. Nate, little one!"

She didn't dare to turn or react in any way at first. She clearly wasn't prepared to meet him. Meet _him_ now and _here_ at the hospital. She actually didn't want to. But since Alexis addressed her father and Nate wanted to get down she knew she had no choice. She hadn't had the chance to tell Alexis, but she was pretty sure the next moments would reveal it anyway.

Kate let the boy slight to the ground who immediately ran off to his grandfather. She took another moment bracing herself to face him and then slowly turned her head around too, her well trained smile just in place.

Oh, she had been so right. She hadn't been prepared. She had _not_ been prepared at all. There he was, a little aged though, some pale maybe grey strands curling between his still mostly auburn hair. She could see new wrinkles on his face that had not been there before and some, that seemed to have been deepened by the time gone by. But he was still as handsome and he still had the same boyish smile, with his blue eyes sparkling all the way across the corridor. Only this time she could clearly tell the smile was meant for his daughter and grandson since it disappeared for the very moment he lay his eyes on Kate.

His face turned pale like he was seeing some kind of ghost as a somewhat shaken "Beckett!" rolled off his tongue when he recognized her. Only a split second later his look had changed completely. A shiver ran down her spine, when Kate could nearly feel the heat of anger which was flashing in his eyes before he managed to pull up his smile again, maybe a little less beaming than before.

She didn't say anything. She was lost for words. She simply didn't know what to say. Actually there was nothing to say in the first place. After a few seconds she broke off her gaze, turning to Alexis only to see the swirling emotions on the face of the younger woman as well.

Kate realized she should just have told her, when she had the chance to do so. Now it was too late. Sadness was covering her own face for a brief moment before she cut the emotions off and shut them behind her professional work-smile-face. Maybe it had been wrong to even come here. Suddenly she noticed that she had only automatically responded with "That's Davidson now", the way she was used to ever since her wedding day. Time to go. Kate jumped to her feet, nodding in Alex' direction while mumbling "Gotta go, leave you to family," she smiled and headed off.

Just when she was about to pass Castle, she heard the small voice behind herself "Katie?" and it even heartbreakingly whispered "Caty Cat?"

She wasn't able to just run off without saying good bye to Nate. So she turned to the boy, whose eyes were filled with confusion and worry. He was a smart kid that was for sure. She didn't even risk another look at the man beside him.

"Everything's fine, Nate. We'll play again another day," her face lighting up with a soft smile, "Take care of your Mommy and your sister." Kate resisted the urge to hug the boy tightly. Instead she settled for patting his shoulder to reassure him as he nodded slightly. Then she turned and headed down the corridor to the elevator without looking back again. She greeted Ben with a nod and a smile while passing by. He was obviously just coming back, the baby on his arm and a puzzled look on his face at the sight of the scene, but she didn't stop.

Kate waited for the noise of closing doors behind her, before she allowed herself to give in her sudden weakness by leaning her head against the cold metal of the elevator wall replaying the recent minutes or actually seconds in her mind over and over again.

She didn't get it. He had looked angry. Why was he angry? She was pretty sure, that he really was mad at her. But she was the one that had reasons to be angry at him. And all she could feel at the moment was pain. It had hurt her to see the anger in his gaze. She shook her head in disappointment at herself.

'Come on, you can do better, Kate. Why should you be hurt at all? It has been ages since then. He couldn't hurt you then, why should he hurt you now? After all he wasn't that important to you anyway', she tried to convince herself. 'He ran off with his ex wife. He had made a promise which he didn't keep because life had changed. He didn't look back.'

After all, his job with her had been done. He had collected enough material and insight to write another two Nikki Heat novels before he eventually dropped this character as well. And that was it. The whole two years before had been to do research for his books. When he was done with that, the two of them were done as well. No need to be hurting. And surely no need to be hurt after all those years. It may have been reasonable to be angry at him for some time back then, when he had told her he would be coming back, but he didn't keep his promise. Well, not that he really had promised anything. She tried to recall his words 'See you in fall', that's what he had said only after she had 'asked' for it. And then he had moved on. And so had she. Didn't she?

But as he had just said her name, the moment he had called her Beckett, she suddenly had been there again. In years she hadn't been Beckett anymore, only Espo and Ryan and sometimes Lanie refused to call her by her new name. Since her promotion she hasn't been called by her name very often anyway. She was 'Sir' or 'Captain' now. She wasn't the woman he had walked out on anymore. Her name had changed. She had changed. Everything had changed. She forced herself to stand straight again, straightened her jacket as though it would give her some sort of strength back, which she somehow had lost entering the elevator. She didn't want to give it any more thought in the moment.

The shocked look in Alexis' eyes came to her mind and the sad one in Nate's. The poor boy had been a little confused when she had said goodbye so quickly. She had said goodbye, hadn't she? No, she wasn't going to question her way of leaving. And she clearly wouldn't start thinking about why she had run off so quickly, instead of staying for a nice little chat with somebody that she once used to know.

Since Castle was there now it was all about family. And she wasn't family. So leaving was only the right thing to do, wasn't it? After all she was only the babysitter who had brought Nate around and wasn't needed anymore. She didn't want to intrude.

Yes, that was it. Besides she had places to be. She needed to remind herself who she was. After a look at her watch she decided to go straight to the precinct instead of home first. Back to work, that's where she was herself the most and where she needed to be right now.

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**Author's note**: Do I have to hide now? I hope not but anyway please review and share your thoughts with me.


	7. Visitings

**Author's note**: Thanks to all of you who put that story on alert or fav. And special thanks go to my lovely beta annem57. And not to forget about APseudonimo who keeps encouraging me.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the show or any of the characters. They only thing I own rights to would be my plot idea, which I turned into this little story for you guys.

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**Chapter 7 – Visitings**

_**Martha's POV**_

**Monday, May 17****th**** 2021**

Martha used the spare key to enter her son's loft. Since she had moved out to live closer to her acting school, and give him some space too, most of the time she only came to visit. "Richard, I need to stop at a specific boutique, got something ordered but wasn't able to pick it up before." He wasn't answering.

"Richard, where are you? Are you ready?" After she had dropped her purse on the counter, she went to look for him. They had agreed to go to the hospital together this afternoon. She actually was a little late but obviously he wasn't already waiting for her impatiently so she didn't mind. He probably was writing and therefore hadn't noticed the time, as he always got caught up in his work.

Eventually Martha found her son sitting in the study staring at the screen before him. As far as she could tell he wasn't writing, but he seemed to sort out a couple of less than pleasant thoughts judging on his ruminative expressions.

"What are you brooding about, kiddo? Afraid you're finally getting old with two grandkids there? I assure you there is no reason to, as long as you don't have to cope with becoming a great grandfather."

"I know, mother. And as far as Alexis is concerned you don't need to worry about that evil term either. You're still their grandmother. No one would dare to call you great grandmother although I have heard you are still great at being a grand mother. Have you seen her yet?" He showed a smile when he looked up at her.

Martha shook her head to answer him on one hand and on the other hand about the promptness with which her beloved son had been jumped on the topic, which he obviously welcomed as a distraction. But she wouldn't go for that.

"Yeah, you know, give them candy and they'll love you anyway. But that's not what is bothering you, is it? Did something happen?"

"No." She smirked not buying it.

"Doesn't look like that being true." She waited but he only smiled at her.

"Why? Everything is fine," Richard replied. 'Son, son, son, you are a terrible liar.'

"Obviously it isn't. I'm nearly half an hour late, but you seem not to have noticed that yet. You're sitting in your study probably for hours but you haven't even opened a document to write. So I'm pretty sure that something must have happened. Just tell me what it is. Maybe your old mother can offer some advice." Martha waited and hoped he would open up.

"Beckett." He wasn't giving her much.

"What?" she asked surprised. Did her ears trick her or had he just said that detectives name?

"More like who. You know the cop I had been shadowing for some time. Nikki Heat?"

Martha nodded. Just how bad did her son believe her memory to be? She may be sixty-something or anything - didn't want to count the years all too thoroughly - but her health was pretty good and she was far from being interested to check into a certain kind of living arrangement. She considered putting on her best insulted look but then decided on just being direct to get to the bottom of his grumpy mood before he got to change the topic again.

"You haven't mentioned her in years. What about her?"

He furrowed his brows as if he had to think about something. "I ran into her this morning. At the hospital, when I went to see Alexis and Joanne. Did you know she is playing nice-neighbor-lady to your granddaughter?" he looked at her inquiringly.

Alexis had never mentioned the Detective. Although she had spoken about some friendly helpful neighbor lately. Was it Kimberly? No, Cathy or Katie. That's it, Katie. Oh.

"Katie is Detective Beckett?"

"Yeah, well Davidson now as it seems." Why didn't Alexis tell them about her? Maybe she didn't want them to know? Martha mused that the girl maybe wanted to protect her father in some way as always. She sometimes wondered why Alexis felt that kind of parent's responsibility for her father. If that was the reason then it had obviously not been working at all anyway. Richard seemed to be upset and hurt and apparently even angry. Martha could tell that he felt betrayed of some sort of because whatever may have occurred.

"And how is our dear Detective doing?" she asked cheerful to try to lift the mood. Richard shrugged at the question.

"Didn't you talk to her?" Why did he have to have that nasty habit to sometimes complicate simple everyday things? Most of the time he was quite charming but on occasions his well trained talent seemed to just disappear in thin air. What's wrong about some nice small talk to somebody he once knew? Maybe she should go tell his mother to better have taught him manners. She mentally chuckled at herself.

"Actually I had no opportunity to. When I arrived at the hospital, she excused herself and did the road runner." There we go. This seemed to be what was bugging him.

"Well Richard not everybody can stay at home all day in sweat pants, watching science fiction movies that are older than your mother and babbling about how the characters would cope when they had to live in the present."

Martha figured Detective Beckett had never been a rude kind of person or something. Surely her famous writer son was wildly exaggerating in describing her exit. Richard gave her the look and shook his head.

"You got that wrong, mother. That woman did everything but fly off in an instant. You could only see the cloud of dust twirling up behind where she had been before. I would have needed some witchy power to freeze her in place if I had wanted to talk to her. And she didn't even look at me." He went silent.

Obviously he had been thinking about it but couldn't figure that behavior of hers if it even happened the way he described. Martha wasn't so sure about that yet. She watched him thoroughly to get what he was thinking. Reading people was an ability that came with all the years of acting. Sometimes her talent and experience as his mother seemed to lose her though, when she couldn't read his expressions like that.

"And you are angry at her?" she tried when he looked up at her considering the question.

"I think she is the wrong person for the kids to deal with." How did he come to this trail of thought? Was there any connection to him wanting to protect his family? If so, what was the reason?

"That's not your place to decide, Richard. It's Alexis'. And you don't have much to judge her on anyway, do you? At least if it's right what you say, you really didn't get much to know about her today," Martha stated, digging for more information.

"I don't need to. What I saw today was enough. She was being rude. In front of Nate. And Alexis was also more than disturbed about her behavior although she didn't say much about it. I'm pretty sure she even didn't know that her neighbor lady was Beckett. I think she would have told me by now if she had known. She was quite shocked. Luckily she got distracted by her sweet baby girl. But I know she's hurt. And Nate was hurt too."

Richard shook his head showing the compassion for his daughter and the little one while trying to hide himself being hurt as well. Martha knew better than to comment on that instead she listened to him going on.

"He practically begged her to stay but she ran off anyway. He even called her Caty Cat", Richard growled getting angry again. Oh there was no point in pursuing this talk. It wouldn't lead anywhere but only result in having moody Richard half of the day.

"If it bothers you, Richard, then go talk to the woman instead of sitting around and nourishing unfounded theories and assumptions. I'm sure you'll figure it out and it will all turn out perfect," Martha paused looking at him, waiting for a reaction. "But I'd suggest you leave that to another day. Besides, you can trust Alexis to protect herself and her family on her own. As far as I'm concerned, I'd prefer to have the family afternoon that I was looking forward to. I'd like to get to hold little baby Jo in my arms as soon as possible. And I really have to check if she is as perfect as Ben was portraying her on the phone." Martha knew how to end the conversation Richard had not wanted to have ever started in the first place.

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At the hospital they didn't ever mention the Beckett incident but Martha could tell that Alexis was confused and hurt too. So probably Richard was right, she hadn't known either, that her neighbor Katie and her father's former cop-friend were in fact the same person. At least what Richard had told about her quick disappearance could be the reason for Alexis being a little off. On the other hand, she had given birth to the cutest little girl – well, beside herself of course – in the world and that would be reason enough to be out of place for some time. But since she had mentioned Katie a lot in last few days, this time not even talking about her once, surely indicated that there was something wrong.

Considering this, left only one question to Martha: had Beckett known who she was dealing with or not? It wasn't likely that she would not have recognized Alexis, but who knows? And of course it would be nice to find out why she had left that abruptly. Martha knew that there was no sense in talking about that with her son or granddaughter. The only source to get some insight in those reasons and maybe prevent further damage and hurt would be to go straight to the Detective. And despite the well meant advice she had given him, Martha was pretty sure Richard wouldn't do that. Usually this was Richard's part but obviously mother had to make it right this time, at least for the sake of Alexis and Nate.

It was after 5 p.m. when they left the hospital. Richard took Ben and Nate home while Martha decided to put her plans into action. After only one phone call she had found out that Detective Beckett wasn't working at the 12th precinct anymore but at the 21st. She told the cabbie the address, and he drove her through half of Manhattan, occasionally glancing through the rear mirror. While she usually liked flirting with a handsome man like that cab driver was, from time to time, Martha was preoccupied this day and not really in the right mood to give him more than a smile. She mused about how the Detective would react to her showing up. She actually wasn't quite sure why she did it in the first place.

After paying the driver, Martha beelined for the front desk at the precinct, where a pretty young officer sat, who can't have finished academy for long. She placed her purse on the counter and smiled at the cop.

"I'd like to visit a friend. She is working here. Captain Davidson?" The female cop nodded.

"May I ask who you are, Ma'am?" So she wanted to know. Where were the days when she had been recognized by people?

"Rodgers, Martha Rodgers." The cop picked up the phone and told Martha that she would call the Captain.

"I'd suggest you wait over there until she arrives, Mrs. Rodgers." She motioned for Martha to sit down on one of the chairs in a kind of lounge that was right across the room but separated from the hallway by a glass wall.

It wouldn't be much fun to stand around if it was going to take some time until the Detective arrived. Although Martha knew her proper rank would now be the one of captain she still thought about Beckett as the Detective. After some time the cop approached Martha.

"The Captain will be down in ten minutes, Mrs. Rodgers. Would you like me to get you some coffee while you wait?" As far as Martha could remember Richard once had compared the coffee at the 12th to monkey pee in battery acid or something. She wasn't keen on drinking something that could possibly taste like that. So she declined the friendly offer with a grateful smile.

"No thanks, my dear. I'm fine." The officer went back to her desk.

While Martha was waiting she watched the people coming and going. Most of them were obviously cops easily recognizable because of their uniforms. But also the ones without uniforms mostly had a cop-like attitude to them, as Martha could tell even without seeing their shield from her point of view. Actually it was something about their composure and the way they walked. Even female cops seemed to do that special kind of stride. And the gun at their hips gave some of them away anyway.

One detective and a pair of uniformed officers brought two handcuffed suspects in who looked like they had been in a fight. More likely they still were because of the screaming. Yeah, it seemed to be pretty busy at the precinct. One reason may have been the end of one shift because most of the time the elevator bell was ringing because the steady stream of officers coming down and leaving the building.

Finally – a little over ten minutes later – one of the people leaving the elevator was Detective Beckett. You could tell her position in the line of command at the precinct by the other cops keeping a respectful distance and everybody greeting her. Even her walk and posture seemed to emphasize that she was the person to give orders. Probably the high heels giving the already tall woman some inches of extra height helped a lot too. She was taller than most of the other cops even the male ones. Other than this she didn't seem to have changed that much over the last decade.

Martha got up from her chair when the officer from the desk pointed Detective Beckett to her. They met each other with a professional, restrained smile both well trained in their respective jobs to only show those emotions they wanted to present. It was the Detective to make the first move, holding her hand out to Martha.

"Hello, Mrs. Rodgers. Nice to see you." She seemed to think about what to say or which topic to approach. Martha's smile grew a little more genuine.

"Congratulations on your promotion, Captain. I only learned about it today." Let's start easy.

"Thank you. But I hear one can congratulate you too. With Alina Jones, your acting school has become quite famous." So the Detective must have done some research on her when she even mentioned her most famous student. Martha highly doubted that the other woman had been following her career for all the last years so she must have gathered that piece of information lately.

"Yeah, Alina. She is a sweet girl. A little withdrawn sometimes, but a hell of an actress on stage."

With that their effort to small talk had reached its end. They both fell silent. Detective Beckett smiled at her patiently not blinking or even the tiniest piece of emotion giving her thoughts away. Martha had to acknowledge that this woman really knew how to keep a poker face.

After some moments of silence the other woman addressed her. "May I ask why you came by? Everything alright with Alexis? And Nate and the baby?" She seemed to be earnestly concerned. Not too bad.

"They're fine. But I'm not actually here to talk about them." For a tiny moment Martha seemed to be able to catch a glimpse of some sort of uncertainty in Beckett's eyes but it was gone at an instant.

"Sure. Shall we go to my office or would you prefer a coffee shop?" This was a private matter. A coffee shop would be comfortable and a decent coffee sure would help talking but it would probably be the wrong surroundings for the kind of conversation Martha intended.

"The office would be fine." She smiled and Detective Beckett showed another hint of insecurity but nodded in agreement and let Martha to the elevator.

They got off at the fourth floor, homicide of course, like the sign said. The "office" was mostly a glass cubicle but it was at least big enough for a small couch and a coffee table at one side of the room, a white board for multiple purposes and a desk with a computer, two piles of some files and some private stuff. The Detective let the blinds down to give them some privacy and motioned for Martha to sit down on the couch.

They hadn't talked much on the way up. "I hear you're married now." Martha asked more than stated because she had noticed that the other woman wasn't wearing a ring and she claimed to have the gift of spotting those and recognizing married people even from afar. Sure, maybe the Detective didn't want to wear hers to work but since there wasn't even the usual mark on her finger Martha all but doubted that possibility. On the other hand people didn't always exchange rings on their wedding anymore. Odd enough though because she had figured the Detective to be kind of old school when it came to marriage and family but then maybe she had been wrong all along.

"Yeah." was the only answer the cop provided, not exactly showering her with information. Was there a twitch at the corner of her eyes? If there had been one then it was already gone. But this wasn't the topic she had come to talk about anyway so Martha shrugged it off mentally.

Martha mused how to come to terms when it was Detective Beckett to start the conversation.

"You wanted to talk about Alexis and the kids?" she asked while sitting down on a chair right beside the couch.

"Yeah, and I need you to be honest with me," Martha was looking for the demanded sincerity in the other woman's eyes.

"Of course. Please tell me what this is about."

Martha kept watching her thoroughly considering for a moment how to begin. She finally settled for coming right to the point. "I don't want to beat around the bush. I know about what happened this morning." No visible reaction from the Detective. Of course the cop had probably already suspected why she had come to visit her.

"Did you know who Alexis was?" Martha directly asked then. She was pretty sure Detective Beckett knew what she was talking about, but nonetheless she seemed to play for time.

"What do you mean?" she only asked back.

"I think you know what I mean. Did you know that your new neighbor Alexis was the same person as in the daughter of my son? You knew her back then."

Detective Beckett still smiled but seemed a little shocked at the same time. Maybe she hadn't expected to get confronted right away. Martha couldn't tell if it was because of her way to directly approach the issue or because of the issue itself. She waited for Detective Beckett to answer.

"Yes. No. At first not." What was true then?

"So, you did know?"

"Well, ahm, not at first." Beckett was stammering. Martha decided to give her time and only continued watching her expectantly. "I found out last night. By chance. I would never have thought that Alex in fact is Alexis." She then admitted sincerely.

Martha nodded in encouragement for Katie to go on.

"I hadn't recognized her. When Nate couldn't sleep last night he wanted to hear one of the Caty Cat adventures. And then I found out that they were actually from Castle. I hadn't known that he wrote children's books as well." She paused as if to make sure that Martha believed her. "Only then I realized that they were related. Knowing now, I wonder why I haven't seen it before, but fact is I haven't." She went silent.

Martha nodded and didn't say anything in reply. Instead she went straight for the second question. "So, why did you run off earlier today?"

"I didn't run off, I only said a quick good bye before I went to work again." The Detective stated but Martha raised an eyebrow as she was sure the woman didn't even convince herself with what she was saying.

"And I'm supposed to believe that?" she asked trying to not grow angry. Richard seemed to have been right.

The other woman turned her head as to thoroughly inspect the condition of the blinds and then looked down to her hands twiddling with the watch at her wrist before she looked directly at Martha speaking again. "Honestly?" Martha nodded being curious about the answer.

"I don't know, Martha." She noticed but didn't react to the Detective using her first name. Instead she concentrated on what she had been saying. She didn't know? That wasn't good enough. Martha frowned.

"I just..." Beckett started and paused again, her professional smile long gone. "I didn't expect to meet him." That sounded earnest. Martha calmed down a bit while Beckett went on "... and I had to go to work anyway. And they are family. I think I didn't want to disturb them."

Yeah, lots of reasons there but most of them only excuses. Martha still wasn't sure what to think about it. She looked Beckett over again and then decided to say something herself.

"Well, I hope you know now that your way of leaving was definitely more disturbing to them than if you hadn't left at all. That especially concerns Nate. The boy didn't understand why you had to leave so quickly." She didn't mention that the others did not understand as well. Judging on how Alexis had described the relationship between her neighbor and Nate, she was pretty sure that woman cared for the boy. And as she had anticipated, Martha now could see the guilt she had been waiting for. The younger woman had finally understood.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to." Beckett quietly stated. "I really didn't mean to hurt him." Martha nodded and patted her thigh comforting.

"I know, Katherine." She deliberately switched to the first name too. Her guarded smile had been replaced by a sincere, open one. "But you can make it up to him next time, dear." Martha assured her while she implicitly gave her the ok to try and pursue their relationship.

They smiled at each other. Beckett probably due to relief, and Martha satisfied because of having gotten her answers and pleased with her decision to take the matter in her own hands.

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**Author's note**: So much about Kate's behaviour earlier. What do you think? Please review and share your opinion with me.


	8. Being affected

**Author's note**: Since this chapter is written in Ben's POV, who got to know Alexis by the name Alex and Kate by Katie, I'll stick with these. I'm pretty sure although Castle must have offered him as his son-in-law to go by their first names, he wouldn't think about him as "Richard" or "Rick". Just for you to know why I use these names here. Don't forget, there is always a story. And there is one as well to why I use different names in specific contexts even though it may seem to be a little chaotic sometimes.

Having said so, I like to thank all of you guys, especially my most loyal readers, who keep following this little story. Very special thanks are as always being reserved for my lovely beta annem57 and first time fan APseudonimo, if I may call her so.

**Disclaimer**: I guess we all know who owns the rights to the show "Castle" and unfortunately it's not me. But I take the liberty to use these characters for playing out my plot. I swear, I'll give them back afterwards.

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**Chapter 8 – Being affected**

_**Ben's POV**_

**Sunday, May 23****th**** 2021**

Ben paced swaying throughout the living room holding his little baby daughter close to him, her right ear pressed against his chest to comfort her with the sound of his beating heart. She didn't seem satisfied though. He knew she couldn't be hungry and he had changed her diapers twice within the last thirty minutes although it hadn't been necessary. She only calmed down a little bit when he carried her through their apartment and whispered comforting syllables into her other ear. But she seemed to refuse falling asleep again, even though her eyelids were hanging low she still managed to hold them open somehow and started to sob or even cry a little louder again every now and then.

He had slid out of bed, careful not to wake Alex, the moment he had heard Jo whimpering from the nursery right across their bedroom. They had only been home two days, and already they had slipped into "baby mode". Ever since Jo's birth Ben had noticed how different she was to her brother. She was that kind of day sleeping kid who preferred midnight walks to the visit to the land of dreams she was supposed to take. He knew a baby that age didn't choose that kind of schedule, but they had managed to make differences between action filled days and calm nights with Nate quite quickly back then and hoped to establish those with Jo soon.

"Let me." He turned at the soft voice of his wife who was entering the living room as well.

Obviously they hadn't been that successful in not waking her up. Alex smiled tenderly when she reached for Jo to take her turn in gently rocking their little daughter back to sleep. After about ten minutes the little girl's whimpering finally subsided, her eyelids closed and her breathe evened out as she fell asleep.

Ben considered going back to prepare Jo's bed but he couldn't take his eyes off his two girls and needed to capture the magic of the moment first. So he went to the cupboard where he kept one of his smaller cameras. He pointed it at his wife, moving a little to get a good angle mirrored nearly automatically by Alex' motion who was used to this action and therefore helped him in turning a little bit to the left until the shadows disappeared. Her face was then mostly lit by the dim streetlights flowing in through the fabric of the curtains. Her head was lowered as she looked down on their baby girl, some stray strands almost brushing over Jo's head, her lips moving as she whispered something to her. When he zoomed in choosing the perfect detail, he noticed that the wrinkles which had previously been curved into Jo's expressions were gone as she had relaxed into the arms of her mother and her mouth was moving in sleep as though she was sucking on something.

He took a shot. And some more too until Alex lifted her head and looked at him not saying anything but the half amused half annoyed question if he was finished clearly showing in her eyes. He smiled back at her, letting the camera sink. Before he put it away he quickly took another picture of his wife who tilted her head slightly to the right shooting him an irritated glare. His smile widened and he shrugged since he could tell by the little crinkles on her nose that she wasn't really mad at him.

When he turned to head for the nursery Alex followed hot on his heels, still keeping a rhythmic sway in her steps. Ben pulled back the duvet so she could lay the sleeping baby down in the crib and tuck her in. He stepped back to let her through, still watching and waiting for her to come back to bed with him. But she seemed unable to break away from their tiny daughter just yet. She was just as fascinated by that little being as he was. Ben stepped up to her, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind joining her in looking at Jo over her shoulder.

"She's so cute and tiny," Alex stated and he nodded affirmatively. "I think I'd forgotten how small and soft babies are," she continued. "And how sweet they smell," she turned to him smilingly.

"No you hadn't," Ben grinned at his wife.

"Yeah, maybe I knew." She leaned her head against his shoulder yawning.

"Let's try to catch some sleep then," he suggested after a moment of enjoying the embrace. He gently pushed her towards the door to cross the corridor to their bedroom. It was probably well past 3 and Nate would be up in only three hours.

They slipped into bed and he reached over her waist again pulling her close, brushing his lips over her neck.

"Night, honey," he closed his eyes perfectly ready to immediately fall asleep.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you, Katie will be coming over tomorrow for coffee. Or more like today," she added the last sentence after a brief pause obviously considering the early hour.

"What?" Ben forced his eyes open again. Of course Alex had to start talking when all he wanted to do was sleep, and Alex needed to get some rest.

"I invited her," Alex lifted her head to look him in the eyes and supporting her chin with her forearm resting on his chest.

"You did," he blinked and realized that his response wasn't making any sense or adding anything to the conversation.

"Nate has been asking for her," his beautiful wife reasoned, apparently wide awake while he still tried to focus and follow her train of thought. He settled with nodding, which she took as an invitation to explain some more.

"I'm glad she came over though I never expected her to. I was quite surprised when she apologized for what had happened at the hospital." Ben stared at Alex. He had been surprised too, to even find out that Katie had known his wife and father-in-law before, that she'd actually been Richard Castle's muse for nearly two years, the model for one of his fictional characters. And Ben had been less than impressed that she hadn't even bothered to talk to them about it.

His thoughts travelled back some days to the moment he had been coming back with Jo from her first doctor's appointment. It had been kind of surreal. First Katie had passed by, hardly saying good bye but only waving briefly. And then he had found his wife shocked, his son confused and worried accompanied by his father-in-law who had immediately engaged him in some questioning about the baby, demanding to hold her and obviously doing everything to lighten the mood and distracting them.

Later, when her Dad had left and Nate was having a nap, Ben had managed to talk to Alex about what had happened. Only then he had learnt about Katie being Detective Beckett or Detective Davidson or something, and how they had known her more than a decade ago.

"Do you think we should invite her to his birthday party?" Alex questioned startling him from his reverie. He contemplated that question before slowly nodding.

"I think Nate would be very pleased," Ben stated.

"Yeah, he would be but it would also be a little awkward, don't you think? I mean, Katie meeting Dad and Grams. I don't know if they'd like that," she paused looking at him thoughtfully. "I think Dad was pretty angry at her. You know him: the harder things are, the more he starts to make fun of something and that day he had acted as though he had swallowed a clown for breakfast." Alex paused again, a yawn escaping her.

"But then, it's not his birthday. It's about our son and Nate would like to have her there too. We're lucky that he is too young to really understand what was or is going on and why Katie had acted so weird."

He watched her shutting her eyes muttering the next sentences barely audible, "They're close. Nate would be hurt if we kept Katie from him. She should be there, too. She should."

Ben knew Alex wasn't ready to forgive Katie just yet but she was obviously willing to try, willing to give her a second chance since she had finally stepped up to them and admitted she had been wrong and dealt the worst possible way with the situation she hadn't expected to encounter. And when Alex had made up her mind she could be quite persistent. And since she, despite everything they found out and what had happened, obviously was still convinced that Katie was a friend to Nate, Ben was sure she would gather herself together to forgive her sooner or later.

Yeah, his wife had been quite angry at first, maybe even mad. She had suspected that Katie had known all along, who she was dealing with, without saying, but on recollection Alex had realized that the other woman would have behaved differently, and she had only been able to notice a difference when Katie had brought Nate to the hospital. They had found out later that Katie had only known by then. Ben wondered why she hadn't told Alex right away as soon she had found out. But that was obviously not the most troublesome aspect. The problem seemed to have something to do with the relationship between her father and Katie.

When he'd had the chance to talk to her, her Dad already gone and Nate taking a nap, his wife had filled him in briefly on where Katie and Richard Castle knew each other from. Apparently his father-in-law had been following her at work for almost two years, doing research in order to base Nikki Heat, the leading character of his last Black Pawn series, on her. Alex hadn't told him much about it, putting the topic aside rather quickly, but Ben was pretty sure that there was more to it.

Ben didn't think they'd parted on good terms back then judging by the way they reacted to running into each other by chance. Who would be that shocked or even mad after more than ten years, if it hadn't been something big? He supposed that they may have had a little more intimate relationship than Alex was willing to tell him or maybe acknowledge in the first place.

She had been a teenager back then after all. Ben looked down at Alex, who's head had fallen to his chest heavily, her grip at his waist loosened as her breath had evened out and turned into her typical sleeping noise which wasn't really snoring but an adorable kind of humming sound.

Obviously there must have been a connection between their relationship back then, the end of Nikki Heat and the never-to-be-called-so midlife-crisis of the writer. Although it didn't quite fit together. As far as he knew Richard Castle had left Black Pawn and New York almost a year after giving up on following the cop - which happened to have been Katie. If it had been a reaction to their supposed break up or something it must have taken him quite a long time to process. But Alex had told him her Dad had been with Gina at that time. Ben hadn't been eager to explore his father-in-law's present or past love life before. He even shuddered at the thought that very moment. But it was different now. It affected not only Richard Castle, but also Ben's wife Alex and even their kids.

It obviously affected Katie too. Leaving the recent events aside she seemed to be quite a nice person and he had really liked her right from the start, but now he wasn't that sure about it anymore. All this tangled mess bubbling up from the past seemed to put quite the damper on every attempt to build a friendship with their neighbor. He even wondered if it was worth the effort at all. When Alex still wanted to allow Nate to bond with Katie, Ben needed to help his wife sorting it out first. She'd told him once that her father's complicated relationships had been one of the reasons to adopting the resolution not to mix up her personal life with her professional. He'd figured Alex had been talking about her father's former publisher and second ex-wife but maybe Katie had been another chess piece in the game if Alex had known about it.

By now he had only been quite glad that their life had led Alex and her father to California. Maybe Alex would never have taken that internship with the Chronicle if she hadn't wanted to stay close to her father. They maybe would have never met. He brushed his lips over her head, placing a chaste kiss to her hair.

His father-in-law would call it fate and on times like these, when he realized it could have happened completely differently, Ben was apt to agree with him. He'd never really given much thought about why the New York author had been following his grown up daughter to the West Coast even if he had eventually been drawn back to the Big Apple on expanding Cheimon Publishing Inc., flying to San Francisco every few weeks to stay with them and spend time with his grandson. But maybe Katie had been part of it. By her coming back into their lives, without knowing though, and building a relationship with Nate their past may have begun to affect all of them.

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**Author's note**: Next chapter may be a little delayed due to my TV-themed birthday party this weekend. Guess which character I chose to dress as.


	9. Three bodies

**Author's note**: It's about time to remember that "Castle" has something to do with cops and murderers and all that stuff.

Thanks as always to my lovely beta annem57 and first time fan APseudonimo. But thank you to all of you as well, who are following, favoriting and/or reviewing this story. You being interested is what helps me work on this story trying to get it as good as possible.

**Disclaimer**: I definitely do not own "Castle" otherwise I would probably not be musing about what "complicated" may tell us about season 6.

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**Chapter 9 – Three bodies**

_**Det. Walter Harris' POV**_

**Tuesday, May 25****th**** 2021**

He watched his partner dropping the papers noisily onto the desk of the interrogation room and glaring at their suspect, one Stanley Brim.

"We know that you knew Angela. You worked at the same office for more than two years." Harris reached for the file and flipped it open looking at some papers in there to make sure the guy sitting across the desk knew that they had already proof to about what Stanley had done.

"I would have never laid a finger on her. I loved her!" Harris noticed that the guy was using past tense, but he didn't react to that.

"You loved her, secretly, but she didn't love you back. Am I right? You admired her from afar. You talked to her from time to time. Nothing special, just about work and other small talk maybe," Harris started to paint a picture of Brim's connection to the victim. "You took her shifts when she needed to change them. You were willing to do everything for her. You were patient. One day she would see you. You were willing to wait for her. But she didn't come to you, did she? She found someone else. She married. She didn't care for you. She never had."

Harris paused to let the story sink in. He used the tense silence to watch the facial expressions of the plain guy sitting just across him. He didn't look like a killer but most of the time they didn't. Obviously he was trying to hide the hurt which had appeared on his face, when Harris had been talking. He wasn't all that successful in doing so. He was even rubbing his right ear for the third time now. He seemed to be getting nervous already.

Harris' partner Rodriguez sat down next to him and took over from there. "And then you saw her that evening on the street again, hand in hand with her husband. Smiling at him the way you wanted her to smile at you. And he was holding her. The woman you knew was your soul mate. You couldn't let go. And you followed them. One block," he tapped the knuckles of his fisted hand onto the desk's surface, "... two blocks," accompanied by another tap.

"And it was eating at you, wasn't it? You needed to know. You went up to them. You addressed her. But she didn't even remember you. For more than two years you had seen her every day at work, but she didn't recognize you. She thought you were just a random guy. She was stabbing your heart, tearing it apart. The smile on her husband's face was mocking you. It was too much for you."

It was Harris' turn again. "You couldn't take it anymore and you drew your knife." He dropped the evidence bag onto the desk, right in front of Brim's cuffed hands. It was holding the blood covered knife they had found only some blocks from the crime scene.

"You only wanted to teach him a lesson but it went all wrong. She stepped in front of him, protecting him. And you stabbed her. You didn't mean to, but you killed her. It was an accident. She was still breathing but in severe pain. Her husband was holding her, crying over her. Then he started yelling at you and you stabbed him too. When you realized that they were about to die you ran. You dumped the knife. You let them bleed out on the street and just ran off."

The guy was shaking his head, eyes wide, in disbelieve. Or more likely denying it. He didn't want it to be true but it was.

"We know you didn't want it to happen. You didn't mean to kill her. You are no coldblooded murderer, Stanley." Harris used his first name to get closer to him. "You are just a man that has been hurt deeply. You don't want to face murder charges, do you? We can talk to the DA. But first you need to sign this." Harris took a paper from the file and pushed it over the surface of the desk toward the guy. Then he took his pen and gently laid it on top of the confession-sheet. He looked him in the eye.

"Please look at it. Is this the way it happened?" He tapped his finger onto the paper, drawing Stanley's attention to it. "Or do you want us to change anything?" The moment the guy took up the pen and started to read the paper, Harris knew he had won. He exchanged a victorious smile with his partner.

"Nice work, Detectives," Captain Davidson addressed them as they stepped out of the interrogation room later. Obviously she had been watching from observation.

"Thank you, Sir. When we discovered his connection to the woman it was piece of a cake," Rodriguez answered waving the compliment off. The captain still nodded appreciative.

"Please make sure the paperwork is done by tomorrow. And don't forget the meeting. 9 am, conference room. Detective Hastings will join us." Then she turned and headed back to her office box. Harris nudged his partner, who was staring at her legs, again. He gave him a disapproving look but Rodriguez didn't seem to feel guilty at all.

"Hey, I'm only lookin'. Men are allowed to."

"Sure, but she's the Captain and you wouldn't like to be caught staring, do you? And I'm pretty sure Caroline wouldn't be pleased as well," Rodriguez grimaced at the mention of his wife.

Harris put the file on top of a huge pile on his desk. He was satisfied that they got a confession this time and it surely cut their work short but he wasn't looking forward to going through all that paperwork that awaited him. He was a cop not a clerk. If he had wanted to fill in forms all day he would have made a different choice of profession. He didn't bother to hide his groan.

"Since I did most of the work in there what about you do this, Rod?" he gestured towards the pile of papers.

"Yeah, sure," his partner sarcastically answered, "I've done my share too. Besides calling me out on it before and now wanting something from me? Not a smart move there, buddy."

Harris flinched at his partner in response when Rodriguez' desk phone rang. 'Please let it be a body' he mentally crossed his fingers and saw his partner writing something down. After he had hung up, Rodriguez knitted his brows and was ready to tell him. Hopefully good news for him about a body drop, because then he got to leave his desk.

"Three dead bodies near 178 Thompson Street." Wow, three at once. That's going to be interesting. "It's kids. Preschoolers. Nothing more yet."

Harris' face fell. Oh no. Cases on dead children were the worst. Not only because of the parents whose life fell apart, but also because they were especially tough on those cops who had children on their own. Luckily he wasn't one of them but he had a niece in junior year. And he could imagine what it meant to someone losing a child. Not to mention the pressure, which usually was put on all of them by the Mayor and Commissioner on solving such cases. Children's murders were the kind of horrific news the papers liked to spread immediately, causing scared parents to keep their kids at home and schools closing for days on the lack of students until they were able to catch the perpetrators.

"Your turn!" He grabbed his jacket and threw the keys to his partner quickly heading to the elevator. 'That's gonna be a hell of a week.' He thought by himself.

When they reached the crime scene they knew it was even worse than they had expected. There was a crowed of curious onlookers blocking the sight of the yellow tape at first. Flashes told them that press was already there as well. Harris exchanged an annoyed look with his partner before they worked through the people, coming to a hold in front of Caltonati. The younger man, a uniformed cop, seemed busy in hushing people away although it didn't work well. But at least nobody really tried to get through the tape.

Harris flashed his patch at him even though they knew each other. "Bad one, huh?" he asked motioning for the people behind him.

Caltonati nodded and answered in a low voice, "We even had to draw the tape in a wider circle to keep them from running the scene. ME is already there and CSU is searching the surroundings," he told them while he lifted the tape to let Rodriguez and Harris pass.

They rounded the corner and made their way into the once shadowy alley which was now lit by the four flood lights CSU had put up obviously expecting a long night. Behind a dumpster Harris could make out a person crouching down. As they got there he recognized Dr. Perlmutter, one of the MEs they were worked with from time to time.

Rodriguez flinched at the sight. Personally, this guy could be difficult to deal with sometimes, but he was really good professionally. But more disturbing than the idea of working with Perlmutter was the glimpse they got on the bodies sitting, literally sitting, behind the doctor. Three young children, one boy, two girls, dressed in rather old fashioned all dark blue clothes, were sitting back at the brick wall side by side on the ground. They seemed to be leaning on one another a little bit too. All three children had short blond hair, with one longer strand of hair tangling behind their right ear. The girls wore a bow in it. Their eyes were closed and their facial expressions seemed calm. Only their pale skin and blue lips indicated that they were not just sleeping. They looked like life size dolls. Harris could hear his partner sucking in air. He had to swallow himself. The peaceful staging and the lack of blood or any sign of violence made it even more eerie.

"What have we got, Doctor?" Harris addressed the ME as he put on his gloves.

"One female and one male, both age about 5, another female probably age 4," Perlmutter answered dryly without even looking up at him.

"Cause of death?" He wasn't able to spot any obvious signs on the bodies.

"So far not much about that, Detective. No wounds, signs or marks indicating the cause of death. Body temperature and the fading rigor mortis indicate they have been dead for at least 24 hours. Post-mortem lividity shows they have been moved after death but have been put into this upright position even before they were brought to this lovely place. Probably their last rest was a little more comfortable than a brick wall. I'll know more as soon as I have them on my tables."

"Any idea how long they have been here?" A uniform who was standing beside answered instead of Perlmutter.

"There is a back entrance to a little restaurant over there but it is only used by the kitchen staff when they get out for a cigarette which they actually do on a regular basis about every hour. When they came out at half past seven everything was as usual. But when the sous-chef took his break at a quarter to nine he discovered them. He was the one to make the call."

"Do we have an ID?" Harris wanted to know but the medical officer only shook his head.

"With kids that age we rarely have dental records or finger prints either so it could get rather difficult. We'll probably have to go on the DNA." Perlmutter stated.

"Well, somebody must be missing them," his partner Rodriguez answered. He had been wandering the crime scene to check for anything out of the usual. Yeah he was right.

"Let's check the missing persons to find out who they are and traffic surveillance for the time between 7:30 and 8:45. Maybe we'll get lucky and find something on the scumbag that deposited them here. You give us a call when you got results, Doc?" Perlmutter nodded and turned to the bodies again.

"Let's get going, back to the precinct." Rodriguez was already heading off to get to the car.

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**Author's note**: I think I may have missed to remind you on reviewing in my last chapter. I hope you guys are more interested in giving me some feedback this time. You know I appreciate all of your reviews, don't you?


	10. All-Nighter

**Author's note**: Thanks to all of you who are following this story, favorited and or reviewed it. Special thanks go to my most regular reviewers APseudonimo, wolfergirl and fbobs.

If you haven't seen it yet you'll maybe like to check out as well "Not Enough" the story from my lovely beta annem57.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the show or any of the characters. They only thing I own rights to would be my plot idea, which I turned into this little story for you guys.

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**Chapter 10 – All-Nighter**

_**Kate's POV**_

**Thursday, May 27****th**** 2021**

It was way past 10PM when Kate turned the key to unlock her apartment door. She was all knocked out. Her purse fell with a plopping sound onto the counter as she removed the hair pins which had been holding her bun in place, trying to ease the pressure which wasn't really caused by a tight hairdo. It's been nearly two days and their high priority case hadn't made any progress worth mentioning yet. The Commissioner had called twice this day to ask about it and the Chief of Detectives had even paid them a 'spontaneous visit' to remind her that he couldn't fight off the press much longer. They also had been talking about how much of nothing they really had on the case by then. He had made her aware of the fact that if there were no any strong leads soon, he'd suggest asking the Feds for support. Clearly, that was something she'd rather avoid if possible. Harris and Rodriguez were probably her best homicide detectives. She was confident they'll find something. Anything. Soon. At least she hoped so.

Three children's bodies. By now they only knew they must have been poisoned with something but the tox-screen had come back clean. Dr. Perlmutter's report pointed it out: they had died of cardiac arrest, but they hadn't found any source that could have caused it. Everything pointed to natural causes, except for how they had been found and having about the same time of death. Someone placed them in the alley. Why? Unfortunately, the nearest traffic surveillance cam had been around the corner so they couldn't be sure which of the passing cars may have stopped to get the bodies out. Rodriguez had been going over the recordings from several cameras, even private surveillance and at the three closest ATMs to the scene for hours in order to find something suspicious, but it hadn't brought up any promising leads yet.

The bodies and their clothes were clean and no finger prints could be found anywhere at the crime scene. Whoever was responsible must have worn gloves. Even finding out about the IDs of the children appeared to be difficult. They were still working on DNA which was their best shot. They hadn't found any matching missing children's reports for those three going back even a couple of weeks. Kate was only glad that there weren't any signs of sexual abuse on the victims, which luckily ruled out some possible motives. But besides that they really had nothing. Kate pulled herself a drink from the already open bottle of red wine she'd taken from the kitchen shelf. She desperately needed some distraction.

No IDs, no families, no suspects, no witnesses, no motives, and worst of all not even a cause of death yet. Only one huge pile of nothing. It wasn't even enough for some crazy theory Castle would come up with. She rolled her eyes at herself for even thinking about him and his weird theories. Seeing him again lately must have triggered some memories about their working the strangest cases together. Besides him being an annoying pain in the ass most of the time, he had proven to be a little useful sometimes too.

Kate took a sip of the crimson red liquid. She wondered what Castle would have said about this case. Something about hostile aliens maybe? Probably he would have been quite shocked. She could remember when they had worked on the case of a wealthy teenage boy who had been found shot in Central Park. Reminding him of his daughter Alexis, the sight of the boy had been hard on him. That clearly wouldn't be much better on this case since the kids were only little older than Nate. Hell, they reminded even her in the most unpleasant way of Nate causing an uneasy, worried feeling.

Nate. Thinking about the boy was still a raw topic to her although she knew they were making some progress. Kate had realized how badly she'd failed him that morning at the hospital. She had been rather distracted at work all day, Nate's sadness and Alexis' shocked look appearing in her thoughts every time possible. It hadn't primarily taken Martha to trigger those thoughts, but she had forced Kate to face her own actions instead of waiting and hiding. Although she had to admit that she had been quite surprised that the woman had approached her at all.

Kate would have never expected to see Martha Rodgers. When she had been called by the officer at the front desk, Kate at first had only been worried if something bad had happened to Alexis or her kids. After that had been cleared up, she wasn't sure what to think about Martha showing up at the precinct but convinced herself pretty quickly that the woman would confront her, and had only come around to tell her that she'd better stay away from Alexis' family. And somehow that thought had pulled at her.

It clearly hadn't been the best decision to act on her first impulse when Castle had joined them at the hospital. She had even mused afterwards that staying away maybe would have been for the better for all of them, to not cause any more trouble to them, than she already had. Her psychiatrist, Dr. Burke, would most likely have pointed out that she had not just been leaving them or staying away as she had been rationalizing, but being fallen back into old patterns by literally running. Instead of him it was Martha who had done that for her, she'd been digging and pushing and therefore made her realize that she didn't want to run at all. The older woman had shown her that either way people had been hurt, especially Nate. When she had told her to make it up to him, Kate had promised herself to just do that. She cared for the boy way too much to no try and prove she was worthy to be a friend to him.

It had taken another day though for Kate to work up the courage to take the present for Baby Joanne, which she had already prepared in advance before, and go back to the hospital. She had braced herself to be sent away immediately. Given the angry look on Castle's face last time, that would have been the likely outcome if he'd been there. For some reason though, she had been lucky, Castle wasn't there and Alexis had been willing to hear her out.

At first they had tried with the usual small talk. It had been awkward. After some minutes of even more awkward silence Kate had told the younger woman how sorry she was and that she had not meant to hurt anybody, least of all Nate. Sitting across each other Alexis had looked her in the eye, obviously questioning Kate's sincerity. But she must have been satisfied with what she saw, since she had only nodded for response. Kate was aware of the fact, that Alexis probably wasn't ready to trust her again that quickly but she was glad to get a second chance.

After her second visit to the hospital Alexis had even invited her for coffee the other day, when she would have been back home again and all settled with the baby. When she had met Nate again it was just the way it had been before. It seemed their special bond hadn't suffered as much as she had feared. She was still as amazed about the boy. A small smile crept across her face at thinking about him.

And just like that Kate's thoughts were swirling back to the case, her tiredness already fading away. Those children were so damn young. Who could possibly kill three kids? And why the hell should one do that? Whoever had done it had been very careful to not leave any traces. Kate's gaze was traveling through the room, looking for something that could catch it and steady her mind or at least give her a clue what to do with this case. She knew she should probably go to bed, get some rest and go in early the next day, but Kate was pretty sure the thoughts about this case wouldn't be leaving her alone anytime soon. She sighed. Yeah, maybe some good distraction would be everything she could hope for at the moment.

Kate went over to her bookshelf. When she was about to grab a random book she was drawn to a specific shelf. There they were, her collection of Castle novels including the three Nikki Heat books. She hadn't touched them in years but she also couldn't face getting rid of them. So there they were still there and she reached straight for 'Burning Heat'. The memory of the evening, when she had gotten that book, flashed through her mind.

"_I just couldn't wait until tomorrow," Josh smiled while handing her a rectangular gift box. This was clearly too large for some piece of jewelry. "Maybe it will help you get through the lonely night," he added still smiling at her confused look. "Go on, open it!" He seemed very excited._

_When she had lifted the lid Kate froze. It was a book. Josh gave her a __**book**__ the night before their wedding. And it wasn't any book._

"_Since you have most of his books and you only had the first two of the Nikki Heat series, I thought it would be nice to complete your collection." He obviously was thrilled at having found the perfect gift for her._

_Kate hid her shock by putting on a grateful smile and kissed him softly. "Thanks Josh. That's sweet," she said before pulling him in for one last passionate kiss before she would meet him in church only a few hours later._

_After she closed the door behind him, Kate took the book out of the box. Without even opening it, she put it onto the bookshelf right next to the others. She didn't want to upset or hurt Josh, but she really did __**not**__ intend to read this book. Ever. _

He had given it to her all those years back. And she really had never opened it, let alone read it. She weighed it in her hands and turned it around, not sure if she should open it, if she wanted to open it in the first place. But as some sort of distraction it surely would work. Castle smiled at her from his picture at the back as though he wanted to mock her on being a childish coward. She wasn't afraid of a book. But maybe she was a little uneasy about what it could tell her. Maybe she didn't want to find out how Nikki Heat would have had to leave the stage, how he killed the character off who had been inspired by her. But maybe it was time to find out. Better to know how Heat was killed than agonizing about three dead children. She frowned at thinking about the case.

Kate filled the nearly empty glass with wine again and propped herself onto the couch. Taking a deep breath, she flipped the book open, only to spot the familiar handwriting. Obviously Josh had the book signed. She couldn't quite imagine her ex-husband spending his time to go to a book signing, but as it seemed he had done it for her.

'_Dear Katie, because your fiancé stood in line just to tell you this way that you're his Nikki Heat. All the best, Richard Castle.'_

She wondered if Castle had known who he had actually been making the book out to. Judging on the neutral and not that 'castle-esque' phrasing she'd guess not. Otherwise he would never have let go of the opportunity to annoy her through this in some way. Or maybe he just didn't care.

It was odd though that Josh hadn't said something as he must have been aware of the fact she and Castle had known each other. Or hadn't he known it? Kate wasn't very open at the beginning of their relationship, so she may never have mentioned about Castle following her. For a moment she mused if her relationship to Josh ever had a chance and how it would have turned out if she had been totally committed to it right from the start. Well, at least she didn't or shouldn't care now. Neither was it important that Josh had gotten the book signed nor what Castle wrote or thought about it. She had given the whole thing too much thought already. She was just procrastinating, postponing the actual reading. Funny though, because she could recall when she had been eager to get a hold of the latest Castle novel. She had practically begged Castle to arrange an advance copy of Heat Wave for her, so that she could read it before it went on sale.

Kate took a sip of her wine, savoring the silky sensation and the sweet taste. Finally she started reading, setting aside all events of the day as well as her thoughts about Josh or Castle, only to be dragged into the world of Jameson Rook and Nikki Heat once again.

Soft pink and peach sunbeams were already peeking through the blinds, when Kate reached the final chapters. She was getting more anxious with every page she read. The story was tense and dark like there was some dangerous creature lurking in the shadows but up to now there was no hint on Nikki or her writer boy being in grave danger, at least not more than in the other books. In this respect it was very different from Storm Fall, where death had been foreshadowed chapters before it actually stroke. The main characters of Burning Heat seemed to drift more and more apart towards the end of the book. They lost their touch in working together on solving the freaky murders that had taken place in an abandoned municipal waste combustor. They were talking at cross-purposes. It was driving Kate crazy. It wasn't them. They weren't the way she knew them from the other books. She wanted to yell at them to make it better which had never happened before. She wanted to yell at Castle for writing that in the first place. It seemed Castle wasn't about to kill Nikki or her other half but worse he was killing the romance instead.

Kate grimaced at the thought, that romance was dead. Not that she hadn't known before, but it had to be better in the books, hadn't it? In the books eventually the bad guys get caught, justice gets served and true love conquers. Besides the adventurous stories packed with surprising twists, that's what Kate liked about the books the most. In the end everything falls in place, everything's set aright. But Burning Heat didn't feel right at all. Kate started stretching her bones which were aching from spending the night slumped onto the sofa. Maybe she should take a short break. She decided to make some coffee before she would be able to face the end of the story whatever it may be.

Coffee mug in hand, Kate walked through her flat. This man had once again turned her life upside down as he had so often knowingly or not. The first time it had only been his words, his writing. His books had been a real comfort, even a kind of anchor at the times when she was grasping for solid ground. Then it had been the man himself when he'd insisted on following her against her will of course. That had been nearly two years of being flipped around every now and then, some sort of roller coaster ride in putting up with him. The moment she had slowly gotten used to his presence and she may have been ready to give him some credit in being if only a little useful to her work, he had decided to go behind her back, despite her explicitly stated wishes, by poking around in her mother's murder case.

It had been hard on her especially because he had really managed to find something. And that very something had threatened to drag her down once again. The consequences of his actions had been huge. From her present perspective even a lot more extensive than she would ever have imagined back then. But she had forgiven him. Somehow she even had been grateful because he had forced her to face her very own fight again. Especially since he readily spent one hundred grand only to get her the chance to find the assassin hired to kill her mother. Even though she had to kill Coonan, her only lead to the person who was behind all of this at the time, in the end in favor of Castle's life, she acknowledged that the writer's interference had gotten her nearer to closure than anything before.

Besides that it had sometimes been quite entertaining to have him around. She had enjoyed teasing him although or even because he kept acting like that immature teenager most of the time. It was just too tempting playing him and yeah, she liked to play from time to time. She had somehow gotten used to it, even though he had always been walking on and from time to time overstepping the thin line to annoyance.

Unbelievable as it was, the next time Castle messing with her life was actually him not following her anymore. It took her some time to cope with that fact. More than she had been willing to admit at the time. Then there was the night she was marked for death, well when she nearly died. She didn't want to give that another thought instead quickly moved on. Even on the evening before her wedding he or better his book had meddled with her. The book, which was more like disturbing as she was able to see now that she had almost finished reading it. She was pretty glad not to have read it back then when Josh had given it to her. And now it was Castle's grandson Nate who had charmed his way into her life and heart. She couldn't help but smile as always at the thought of the little blue eyed boy. But as though inevitable suddenly his face was replaced by three other children's pale features. The case was still there, waiting to be solved.

It was just then when Kate realized that she had spent the night reading instead of getting some rest before heading back to the precinct in the morning. As she could see now she would have had a restless night anyway tossing and turning in bed due to the recent events and everything else going on. Maybe her decision had been for the better, giving her a distraction and some kind of rest by that. At least she felt better somehow. Her gaze fell onto the book lying on the coffee table. It was late or actually early so maybe the end of Nikki Heat had to wait again.

She was about to head for the bathroom when her phone buzzed. Seeing the NYPD logo flashing on the screen she knew it wasn't only metaphorically the job which was calling. Maybe something new on the kids? Hopefully. She picked up.

"Davidson."

"Sorry to call that early, Sir." It was Harris.

"We've got something on the doll case," he continued. The guys had started to call it doll case because of the way the children had been arranged and to avoid referring to them as children at the same time. Somebody who didn't know them would have found that term at least odd if not highly offensive and disrespectful to the human beings those kids once had been, but Kate was able to understand their need to depersonalize those victims.

"What do we have, Harris?" Kate asked as usual.

"Perlmutter found something on the DNA of one of the girls, something about partially matching a former Naval petty officer or something. So we may be able to identify her. They're already checking it. And there is a request from Chicago Police."

'Chicago?' Kate wondered what they could have to do with the case.

"It's about some resemblance they found because of the pics we put out."

Oh no, please don't let it be a serial killer. A serial killer selecting children in different cities and even states? It seemed that case was getting worse each day instead of close to solving. But maybe these new bits of information would finally crack the case open.

"We thought, maybe you'd like to come in." He sounded a bit insecure as though he regretted even calling her.

"Yeah, thanks Harris. I'm on my way."

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**Author's note**: I'll keep it short: please review!


	11. Break through

**Author's note**: This time we'll have a surprise POV meaning you wouldn't have a chance in guessing whose it is. It's one of the possibilities I like about this style of alternating POVs, hope you guys enjoy it as well.

As always before we'll dive in I like to thank all of you who follow this story, favorite it or even review. And I'm especially thankful for my beta annem57 who hunts down all the wrong quotation marks, commas and 'Germanisms'.

**Disclaimer**: Do I really have to repeat this? Yes? Okay then, for all who want to know, I do not own "Castle" or the characters on the show.

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**Chapter 11 – Break through**

_**Martin Shaw's POV**_

**Friday, May 28th 2021, morning**

"Yeah I'm coming, I'm coming," Martin called out as though the caller who caused his phone to impatiently ring could hear him and hang on. Who was calling that early anyway? It was only 7 AM. He skipped putting on his shoes, instead sprinting out of bed to pick up the phone. Caller ID unknown. That was strange.

"Hello?" Martin answered.

"Hello Sir, am I speaking to a Mr. Martin Shaw?" He didn't recognize the female voice.

"Yes, that's me. Who am I talking to?"

"Sir, this is Officer Pintyr with the NYPD. Do you have time to come to the police station today? We'd like to collect your statement."

Police? "Is it about that shop lifting last week? I already told the other officer all about it. I thought since we got the guy everything was fine."

"Sir, I suggest you come over and then we can talk," the cop on the phone insisted. He had already given his statement on the thief he had caught red handed last week on his job as a store detective. There hadn't been anything extraordinary about it and everything was airtight. Well at least he had thought so, but maybe the police had messed it up anyway. He sighed.

"Okay, but I need to inform my employer first," Martin stated annoyed of the unwanted change in plans.

"Thank you, Sir. Please come to the 21st precinct at 1156 Madison and ask for Detective Harris or Captain Davidson."

He frowned because he was pretty sure that wasn't be the precinct with jurisdiction over the case. But why else should he have to come to the police station? Who knows, maybe they'd really messed it up badly. "Yeah, I will. Thank you," he replied politely.

"Good bye, Sir."

"Bye," he answered and hung up.

When he had finished getting dressed he called the security firm he was working for. "Hey Bob, police just called, they want to take down my statement," he explained and added after a brief pause: "Again." A deep laugh was the only answer from his boss. "I'm going to be late for my shift but I'd like to go there now and get it over with. Do you have somebody to cover for me?"

"Yeah, no problem, Martin. Maybe you can tell them how it's done."

Now Martin laughed too. He doubted that the police would admit to having made a mistake. It was more likely they would blame him for whatever had gone wrong. "Thanks Bob, I owe you."

"Nah, I know it's for the job, don't worry."

It was only after 8 am when Martin got of the subway and walked the remaining block to the 21st precinct. On his way there he had been thinking about the call. That police officer hadn't said much. Also she had neither confirmed nor denied that this was about the shop lifting case he had mentioned. Maybe it was about something different? But there was nothing he could think of. Well, he'd find out soon.

At the front desk he introduced himself and asked for either Detective Harris or Captain Davidson. Then he was led to a small but nicely furnished room by one of the officers. The room consisted of some sort of conference table with eight chairs surrounding it and a L-shaped couch. There were also some plants and a window facing the rear of the building. The room was like any other conference room you could find thousands of in Manhattan. The officer told him to sit down motioning for the couch and offered some coffee which he gladly accepted. This wasn't normal. He was getting bad vibes about this situation. Something was really off because it didn't look at all like the office he gave his statements in.

About five minutes later he was sipping from his coffee when a pair of cops entered the room and he got up to greet them. They didn't wear uniforms. A woman in her mid forties came in first carrying a file. Judging from her composure she must have been a superior to the male late fifties cop following her, so she probably was Captain Davidson.

"Mr. Shaw?" the woman questioned smiling at him. Her self-confident demeanor conveyed that she was in fact a no-nonsense sort of cop, used to being in charge. What startled him was her compassionate look, as though she understood something that he didn't even know. He didn't like that look which gave him an uneasy feeling but he didn't let it show. Instead Martin nodded and took the hand she was offering.

"I'm Captain Davidson. And this is Detective Harris," she turned for the other cop and then motioned for all of them to sit down.

What the hell was going on? "What is this all about?" he couldn't help but ask probably sounding a little angry. Only half an hour earlier he had been completely sure that it was about something work-related, but now he was starting to feel a little weird.

"We just need you to answer some questions," Detective Harris now started to speak. "First of all we'd like to apologize for calling you in, but that way it will be easier."

Martin looked from the Detective to the Captain and back again. "What is this about?" he repeated his question. 'Spit it out, already!' he thought but didn't say anything more.

"You don't have any children of your own, Mr. Shaw, am I correct?" Harris surprised Martin with his question.

"Yes, Detective. I mean, I don't have any kids yet."

"Do you have any other relatives like brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews?" Captain Davidson wanted to know then. Martin looked at her shaking his head.

He thought about Paul and Sally of course. She'd been such a lovely child, always good tempered and making friends everywhere she went until that one day. The memory of his niece darkened his mood at an instant and somehow he felt the need to say something. "No, I don't have them anymore. I had a brother and a niece once."

When both the Detective and the Captain nodded encouraging he decided to tell the cliff notes version. "She'd be five years old on the 12th of July now, but she…" he gulped hard before he continued the sadly, "she disappeared two years ago never to be found again. It killed Paul and his wife. Not literally of course because it was actually a car crash. He had been intoxicated like way too often at that time and couldn't react fast enough…" Martin's voice trailed off and although his thoughts were a little clouded from bringing this memory to his mind again he noticed the Captain and Detective exchanging a look.

Davidson flipped the file open and took a picture out handing it to him. "Do you know her?"

He looked down at the picture showing a little girl who seemed to be sleeping. His jaw dropped from the shock and his eyes filled with tears. Even though she had blonde hair and was older he recognized her at an instant. "Sally!" He looked back at the two cops puzzled. "You found her?" Both nodded in agreement.

"We'd like to tell you how sorry we are for your loss, Mr. Shaw," the female cop started speaking while he was staring at the picture in his hands again. The girl looked so peaceful. He'd never thought he would see her again. Where had she been all the time? What had happened to her? He knew she had to be dead but somehow he felt relieved that she had come back. Out of leads, they had given up any hope a long time ago. Maybe they shouldn't have. Judging by her looks she had been alive all the time. She had been alive somewhere and probably missing her family, relying on them to find her and get her back. But they failed her. They all failed her. With the back of his hand he brushed away a stray tear that had escaped him.

"How…?" he tried to voice his questions. "What happened?" he asked after clearing his throat.

"We don't know yet, Mr. Shaw," Harris now spoke to him "But we're gonna find out and get the guy who did this." His brows were furrowed and he sounded determined.

"We know this is difficult for you, but we need you to identify her body and to tell us everything you can remember. You'd help us a lot. Will you do that, Mr. Shaw?" Captain Davidson looked at him with a serious as well as sympathetic expression.

He'd do everything to help. After all they had been his only family. He owed it to his niece.

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**Author's note:** I know, this one's pretty short but I think it is just right to capture the scene. Next one will be longer though. As you can see btw. I'm changing to updating once a week. With holidays and stuff coming up this is the best way to provide you with stable updates. Oh, before I forget: please review!


	12. A different story

**Author's note**: I know some of you will be glad to hear we're back on Castle's POV. Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about him over the case.

**Disclaimer**: I know, you know, that I'm telling the truth. I know, you know, they do have enough proof... yeah, that's just it and I don't own anything. Well, DVDs and this plot-line but besides...

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**Chapter 12 – A different story**

_**Castle's POV**_

**Friday, May 28****st**** 2021, late afternoon**

"Welcome to Chez Walker," Rick greeted cheerfully swinging the door open for the next guest only coming to face Beckett on the other side. Her bright smile, which seemed to cover up some kind of tiredness, faded immediately.

He furrowed his brows at her sight and considered not to let her in. But that would have been rude and petty, wouldn't it? And in contrast to certain other people he was pretty sure he wasn't a rude person. What was she doing here anyway? Technically he knew she was somehow a friend to his daughter and to Nate as well but at the same time Rick had the strong feeling that she simply didn't belong with them. And he didn't want a repeat of that awkward meeting from last time at the hospital when she ran away from them. If nothing else, with that performance she had clearly shown why she wasn't the right woman for a three-year-old to bond with. He didn't get why Alexis seemed to have forgiven her. With Martha and Meredith, there were already enough complicated women in Nate's life. He definitely didn't need another one.

"I suggest you step aside then," Beckett said referring to his welcoming phrase, her eyebrow raised as she made him aware of her presence again and that he still blocked the doorway.

'Right,' he reminded himself of his manners and stepped aside to let her pass. "Sure sure." His smile was back on. At that moment Alexis approached them from behind.

"Hi Katie, good to see you. Come in." Rick wondered why Alexis wasn't angry at the woman. At the hospital she had been, even if she hadn't said anything. But it seemed they must have come to terms somehow.

"The more, the merrier." Rick reinforced without even being certain about it. He followed Beckett in to join the other guests in celebrating Nate's birthday.

"So, tell me Katie", he purposefully emphasized the last letters, "isn't your husband the least bit jealous you're spending so much time with a different family?" he wanted to know before adding: "You could have brought him with you, you know?"

For a brief moment her eyes seemed to be clouding at his remark, but it was gone in the blink of an eye which made him wonder if it had ever been there in the first place or if he had only been imagining it.

"I just wanted to bring this big boy his present and then I'll be leaving again. I'm a little tired out from work anyway and don't want to intrude," her voice trailed off.

"No Katie, please stay. He was so looking forward to seeing you. You have to at least taste the cake and I'll get you a coffee," Alexis interrupted.

After motioning for Beckett to go to the living room, where Nate and his guests were, his daughter glared at him and hissed: "Behave, Dad!"

He didn't do anything wrong, did he? "Just wanted to know," Rick shrugged. Because they had already reached the living room and needed to attend to the guests Alexis, only mouthed him a single 'later' in response. Wasn't she supposed to be on his side, which would be Nate's? Especially since he was on their side, watching out for them. He had to admit he was a little confused.

Rick watched the scene at the living room when Beckett was being welcomed like a close friend. Nate had jumped into her arms the moment he saw her. Alexis took him from her to let her sit down. And his mother patted the free space right beside her on the couch. Hey, her too? Beckett sat as directed by Martha and seemed to feel quite at home. Meanwhile Nate had ripped the paper off the present she had given to him and bounced at revealing a colorful graphic novel. The new cat woman series. The boy giggled and Beckett exchanged some conspiratorial looks with him as he thanked her with a tight hug.

"Who is she, darling?" Irene had touched Rick's arm to get his attention. He smiled back at her.

"Katie? She's Alexis' neighbor." He chose to stick to the name his daughter's family used.

"You know her?" Yes. No. Did he? He had once, but now? Rick wasn't that sure about it.

"Not too well, she is a friend of Alexis." He knew he had to say that although he somehow would have preferred not to. He didn't like to view Beckett as a friend of his daughter.

"I haven't seen her before," Irene mentioned. Rick wondered when or where Irene should have met Beckett. They'd spent time with Alexis and her children on some occassions but that had been before Alexis and Ben had moved.

"Well, it's not that long since they've moved to this apartment building," he shrugged. They hadn't been neighbors before.

Irene nodded as though she only understood now. "They seem to be close," she stated.

He looked at his girlfriend, if he could call her so, in surprise. Was she being jealous because of Beckett? "Yeah well, I guess they see each other quite often. Katie helps them sometimes with the kids."

Rick suddenly found himself defending the relationship between his daughter and Beckett. He had not known Irene wanted to be closer to his family. And actually he didn't know if he had wanted her to. They knew each other for about a year, had been dating for some time but not seriously. As he realized now, they had not spent much time with his daughter and her family. Only it never had crossed his mind that Irene maybe had wanted to. He had never figured her a children's type anyway but that hadn't been bothering him.

Before they could continue their conversation his mother stood up and announced that since everybody was there, it was time for the cake. Alexis nodded in agreement and got up as well. While Nate jumped in excitement his mother and grandmother left for the kitchen. Only a few minutes later they returned pushing a tea-cart together with a huge cake in the shape of a three on it. Its butter cream was decorated with sprinkles all over it and there was also some writing which he couldn't read from his point of view.

He knew this time the cake wasn't homemade as usual. Alexis had wanted to bake it herself but since she was busy with the baby and getting settled at home again they had convinced her to order it. It had bothered her but they soon cheered her up, that next year around that time she could bake two cakes for both of her kids. And then she joked that it was her fault because of getting Joanne only a few days before the party.

They all sang together for Nate and the proud boy blew out the single candle burning on top of the cake. Since the incident at Martha's birthday two years ago, they had decided not to use candles for every year any more. He wrinkled his nose on remembering the burnt smell in the loft which he hadn't been able to get rid of for days. Luckily nobody had been hurt but they weren't keen on setting another apartment on fire even if it was only the table cloth.

"What did you wish for?" Rick questioned.

The boy only shook his head in disbelieve. "Gramps, you must not tell since your wish doesn't come true then," his grandson stated as though wondering why he didn't know.

"Ah, don't answer your grandfather, kiddo. He just wants to tease you." Martha sent her son a feigned disapproving look but Rick only laughed.

"Oh, well stop discussing that, we'd like to taste that delicious cake, don't we?" Cynthia, Ben's sister, distracted them and asked Nate if he wanted to cut the cake.

When the boy took the knife he raised it like a sword staring down the cake as though it was a dragon to slay and stabbed it then, causing the icing to splash a little. "Gotcha!" he exclaimed and grinned widely while his aunt took the knife back quickly to cut the cake in eatable pieces placing them on the plates.

"You'd gonna be a good knight, little one, but I don't think the cake needs to be killed," Ben scooped his boy up in his arms, rubbing his nose with his own.

"Not a knight but a superhero, just like Caty Cat," Nate glanced over at Beckett. They all knew it was his favorite character. And somehow he seemed to identify his new neighbor with her. Rick wondered where the boy did get this idea from?

"Wanna share?" Beckett held her plate out to the boy. Picking up one of the forks he took a great bite, smearing icing all around his mouth.

Rick looked over to Irene who had been watching the scene without saying much. Actually she had been rather quiet all the time. When she turned her head in his direction she smiled softly and there was something in her eyes which caused him to have an uneasy feeling. He looked down to his plate scooping up some cake. Yeah, it was really delicious. He should ask his daughter for the address of the pastry shop.

"So does anyone want more ice tea?" He looked at all of them already getting up. He got some nods here and there for an answer so he quickly headed for the kitchen to refill the jug. Maybe he shouldn't have brought Irene along. It had been Alexis who had asked about her some time ago. It had seemed to be a good idea at the time. Alexis and Irene had always gotten along quite well before. Only now he realized that his – no, he actually didn't want to think about her as his girlfriend, she was more a friend who happened to be a woman, well with certain benefits but still more like a friend – but his _friend_ seemed to follow an agenda, and they weren't on the same page. He frowned. He needed to talk to her. But that definitely wasn't the right place or time.

He was filling another jug with soda when he heard small wincing sounds coming from the baby monitor. Ben had installed a speaker in every room, so they didn't need to carry them around the apartment. And it seemed as though the baby girl wanted to join her brother's birthday party as well. Instead of taking the jug into the living room he decided that it was Gramps' turn to take care of the little sweetie. On swinging steps he made his way to the nursery only to stop in the doorway. Apparently he wasn't the first one to notice Joanne being awake again.

He had expected it to be Alexis, Ben or maybe Cynthia but it wasn't one of them. When he wanted to enter the room he could see Beckett bending over the crib. Some strands had been loosened from her bun and were tangling down while she reached for the baby. She was whispering something comforting but he couldn't quite catch the words. Rick turned his head to see if Ben or Alexis were with her but she was alone. Why would they let Beckett take care of the baby? Whatever the woman before him was saying, Joanne seemed to listen to it as her whining faded. Should he go in and suggest taking Joanne to Alexis?

Somehow he couldn't. He didn't want to picture Beckett this way. He didn't want to see her comforting his granddaughter. She had to be this tough and complicated cop, incapable of dealing with children or even caring about nothing but invading his personal life, his family for no good reason. But then he realized that she'd never been bad with children. He thought back to that case about the abduction of a little girl, when she had slept in a chair in the nursery all worked up, desperate to find the missing child. And he remembered the way she had picked up the little girl without any hesitation as soon as they had found her with her aunt. To be honest, from that moment on he had pictured her with her own children some day.

So he couldn't just interrupt her or turn away to tell Ben or Alexis. Instead he stood frozen in place and kept watching her as she cuddled the baby to her chest cupping the curve of her skull resting at her right shoulder with one hand and supporting her bottom with the other, just as though she was doing it all the time. Her whispering turned into humming, and she started swaying to the same melody and slowly pacing back and forth throughout the room. It really wasn't anything special. In fact he could recall numerous times he had spend part of his nights comforting Alexis that way when she had been a baby herself. He had also done the same when Nate was younger. But nonetheless seeing Beckett acting so motherly made him... what?

He couldn't place his finger on it, but it seemed to only be a perfect moment which he didn't want to disturb. She looked completely relaxed and at ease with herself. He was glad that he had been able to share it, even secretly. He surely would treasure this memory. Well, he actually needed to keep it to himself because he was pretty sure the woman would shoot him, if she was ever to find out that he had been watching her.

The noises from the living room had been becoming more distant and lowered as though overrun by his thoughts and the gentle tune of her lullaby. It kind of sounded familiar, but what were the words? He wasn't able to recall them. As Joanne seemed to have calmed down he was still being mesmerized by the scene before him and the humming. He knew it was too late to let Beckett know that he was there as well. He should turn around and walk away but it was too fascinating. Although he still was convinced that Beckett was the wrong person for his grandchildren to deal with, he had to acknowledge that she was doing great in this very moment. It seemed absolutely natural to her. To her own children she might be a very good and devoted Mom.

Meanwhile Joanne had fallen asleep again and Beckett stepped over to the crib. When he saw her placing a soft kiss on Joanne's head before bending obviously to lay her down, he was snapped from his enchantment. Slowly and careful not to create any noises he retreated to the kitchen, getting the ice tea and soda and returning to a totally different world as it seemed to him.

Later Irene was one of the first guests to say her good bye. She had to go to a business meal which they had known before. Rick took her to the door.

"I'm sorry that I've got to go," she said and he was able to spot the sincerity in her eyes. He was pretty sure, she'd say yes if he offered to come along with her but he'd promised to assist as host.

"Don't worry. I'm going to stay and help clean up," he smiled at her and gave her a peck on the cheek right beside her mouth. She looked at him bewildered but returned his smile even if hers seemed to be a little weak.

"Bye, Rick."

"See you soon, Irene." Now her smile brightened up a little bit but maybe he just started imagining things. She turned and went down the hallway. Just when he was about to go back into the apartment she turned and blew him a kiss over her shoulder.

The moment the door was shut behind the last guest Alexis turned to him. "What's the matter with you, Dad?" she threw her hands in the air in some dramatic gesture which seemed to be oddly familiar and made him wonder if his mother's talent had yet been passed down the family-line after all.

"Is this some kind of jealous behavior only because Nate likes her? Or is it still about the night when Jo was born? I already told you it was the easiest way. And at the time we actually didn't know for sure that our little sweetie was on her way."

"No!" he exclaimed and realized that it may have sounded a little high pitched, even to his own ears. He cleared his throat before continuing. "No pumpkin, it's not that. I... you... it's just…" Rick trailed off struggling for words. He didn't know what to say. He didn't even know what to think. Actually he wasn't quite sure what his daughter was talking about.

"So why did you then go and stir up her past?" What the hell was she really talking about? At the sight of his puzzled look Alexis continued reminding him "Katie? We're talking about Katie," she said.

Oh Beckett, sure. He didn't know that woman anymore and he wasn't comfortable with her intruding his family the way she did. Yet there was something about her. He was a little confused about who Beckett really was. Especially since the scene he had witnessed earlier. So they were talking about her now? But about what concerning her exactly?

"This crack of yours, about husbands earlier? Remember?" Alexis questioned, reminding him of the very situation and gave him a disapproving look. But even when he tried hard he still wasn't able to see what the problem was.

"Gosh, Dad. How insensitive can you be?" his daughter used yet another overdramatic gesture to emphasize her words. Rick had been told to be quite insensitive occasionally before, but most of the time he didn't try to be so at least not deliberately. "Dad, she is divorced," after a brief pause Alexis quickly continued but in a lower voice. "Must have been a bad one though. She doesn't really talk about it."

'Tell me!' Rick thought smirking at the memory of past occasions when Beckett had _not_ talked about things concerning her personal life.

Wait, what had Alexis said? Divorced? Rick's mouth fell while he was trying to process that new bit of information. Kate Beckett divorced? What had happened to 'one and done'? He had never imagined her to be divorced even if it wasn't unusual and he had been divorced himself twice. But he had pictured her rather living in the suburbs in her own house with a white picket fence or in a big apartment, happily married to some guy with two or three little Becketts running around and a dog or cat for company maybe. He had been pretty sure she was the woman to make it. He ran his hand through his hair. Apparently the story was a whole lot different than he had thought all the time. And it was most definitely a story worth exploring.

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**Author's note**: I know, I know, it's fluffy. But I thought after last chapter we could do with something lighter this time.


	13. Identities

**Author's note**: First of all I'd like to thank my beta annem57 who was really helpful in dealing with this chapter. Another, yet mumbled, thank goes to fbobs, because of whose feedback I considered writing this chapter in the first place which – therefore the mumbling - was quite a hand-full. I hope you like it though and you can live the story, in this case the story mostly being the case.

Thank you very much as well to my two fellow authors APseudonimo and wolfergirl as well. Thanks for letting me whine about my story and random stuff.

**Disclaimer**: I most definitely don't own Castle. It doesn't seem this is about to change any time soon.

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**Chapter 13 - Identities**

_**Det. Genna Mazzini's POV**_

**Saturday, May 29****st**** 2021**

After leaving the elevator on the 4th floor, Genna Mazzini headed for the glass cubicle that belonged to Captain Davidson. Her superior had called her in today to help on an important case. She'd actually missed the call at first, enjoying a family breakfast out with her parents, with Saturdays off being rare, and she appreciated time to spend with them every now and then. Yet she hadn't been that disappointed when she'd recognized the caller ID, thus having an excuse to leave for work.

Her mother had started to brag about just how sweet the grandchildren of her best friend Emilia were. She'd once again made clear that she wished to have some of her own, not only subtly hinting at it but instead telling her directly: "You're not getting any younger, Gen." Mazzini had rolled her eyes at the time, and did it again at the memory. Her mother was quite persistent about it, not even letting her off the hook when she pointed out that her older brothers could be first to reproduce. Most of the time, however, the conversation always went in the same old direction, with Mazzini eventually stating that the things she saw on the job made her doubt that this world was a safe place for raising children at all.

Working missing persons, she knew all about the cruelty of some shady specimen of mankind leaving behind destroyed families in their wake.

"If every cop thought that way, you wouldn't be there now," her mother had replied as usual, not letting her get away with the statement by reminding her of being a cop's child herself. Mazzini had sighed and turned to look at her father who seemed to not having noticed anything. There was no help to be expected from him, who was paying excessively close attention to cutting off rectangular pieces of pancake purposefully ignoring the usual mother-daughter bickering, knowing it wouldn't do him any good to get involved only to end up getting caught in the emotional crossfire.

When she'd realized that she stood no chance at winning the argument, Mazzini had murmured something and grabbed the purse sitting on the ground to look for her phone in an attempt to call Danny for rescue. Her brother had once again ditched them for some unspecified opportunity, meaning it was probably a girl. She wondered if maybe he was simply avoiding these kinds of conversations with their parents that used to drive her crazy. Pulling out her phone, she'd found out about the missed call from the precinct, and returned it immediately. Not ten minutes later, she was in her car on her way to the 21st, heading for the Captain's office. Her help had been requested on a homicide case.

The Captain had just looked into her direction when Mazzini approached the office, and waved her in.

"Thanks Detective, for coming in on your weekend off," the other woman said and gave her a friendly smile before she continued to telling her what was urgent enough to call Mazzini in. "We need your assistance in finding out about some victims' IDs. The team will meet at 10 AM straight in the conference room. I need you to pull missing children reports made in the last five years, male as well as female. Filter for all reports regarding children that would be about four to five years old now. Focus on New York City first but to be on the safe side, include reports from all of New York state and New Jersey as well," the Captain ordered.

Missing children then. 'Great way to spend a weekend,' Mazzini thought sarcastically. "Is this about the doll case?" she asked.

"It is," her superior confirmed, nodding without giving any additional information. She supposed she'd get it at the briefing.

"I'll get right on it, Sir," mirroring the nod, Mazzini already started to move for the door.

It was nearing 10 when she finally had all the requested reports together. From a total of 12,570 open cases on missing children in New York State and New Jersey, 454 matched their age range, 218 of which were in New York City. She'd created several virtual files on the local database, building short-cuts to all relevant reports, separating them by state, and within by gender and race. Working through all those reports would take some time. On finishing the task, she glanced at her watch. Since she supposed there wouldn't be an opportunity for a break anytime soon, she quickly went to grab a coffee before heading for the elevator, and not to miss the scheduled briefing.

When she arrived at the conference room, a young and obviously anxious cop bumped into her, causing Mazzini to nearly spill the hot liquid from her already half emptied mug. Their noisy encounter drew attention from Harris and Rodriguez who were obviously prepping for the briefing.

"Mazzini, I see you've already met Detective Jones," Rodriguez laughed. "Our rookie here," he nodded his head towards the mentioned Detective while Mazzini placed her mug on the table, deciding for a spot in the middle of its long side, "can't wait to catch his first killer, so better not get in his way."

"So, Davidson summoned you, huh?" Harris questioned.

"Can't let you guys down if you need help to find your way back from your dead ends, can I?" Mazzini shrugged emphasizing the word 'dead' referring to the homicide department before taking another sip from her coffee. She enjoyed teasing the other detectives. In her experience, this kind of light banter usually worked pretty well to ease possible tension in a newly assembled team, and to quickly find your footing in working together as though you always had. Young Detective Jones, though, didn't seem sure about how to fit in as he sat with his back to the window at the corner of the table. Since he reminded Mazzini of her own first weeks on detective training, she gave him an encouraging smile. Davidson must have had her reasons for bringing him in to learn on and work such an important case.

Captain Davidson was the last one to arrive at the conference room, which had steadily filled up within the last minutes. She carried some files and closed the door behind herself as she started thanking all of them for coming and crossed the room, stopping at the head of the table.

"As you are aware, our precinct is currently investigating the murder of three children, known as the 'doll case'. As I've decided to increase the size of the team working the case, we're here to share everything we've learnt about it and decide on the next steps to take," the Captain opened the briefing, making sure to get their undivided attention by looking at every member of the assembled team at least for a short moment.

"Considering the latest bit of information, I decided to assign Detective Mazzini to the case as well. Because of her experience on working missing persons I expect her to be a valuable asset to the team," Captain Davidson nodded to Mazzini while continuing, "For further support our task-force will be joined by Officer Mahon and Officer O'Brien as well." Mazzini noticed the Captain speaking of the team as being part of it herself. Taking a closer look at the woman, she could see the determination sparkling in her eyes. Everything from her controlled self-confident composure through the perfectly smooth bun in her hair, no loose strands thanks to a couple of hair pins, to her well considered speech fitted the image of a tough woman who successfully worked her way up in the still male dominated area of law enforcement, holding her ground.

"Since this is a high priority case the lead will stay with the homicide team that had been working it right from the start, with decisions to be made by either Detective Harris or me. I ask you to follow his orders." While Harris grinned, nudging his partner Rodriguez, Mazzini let her gaze stray a little, taking in every single person on the team.

She knew Harris and Rodriguez from working some prior cases together. They had already been one of the most successful teams in investigating murders probably throughout the city when she started out at the 21st right after leaving the academy. Their closure rate was quite impressive since they always kept an eye on cold cases, closing some of them eventually as well. When the former Captain retired, most of the cops working here had been sure Harris would be offered to replace him as head of the precinct. Rumor had it that he'd declined the offer in favor of continuing working the field instead of sitting behind a desk. He wouldn't be the only cop to dislike paperwork. Watching him and his partner, she could tell they enjoyed their work even when confronted with such a heart breaking case as this.

Even if she hadn't known before Mazzini would have been able to tell that Jones was a rookie sailing new seas by the way he leant into the table as though he was about to crawl over it any minute, eager to not miss a single word uttered by the Captain. In contrast the three officers in uniform seemed to be a lot more relaxed, one of them, whose name she didn't recall, appeared to even be bored. Was he fiddling with a phone? At least O'Brien, the only other female cop besides the Captain, seemed to really pay attention. Caltonati was playing with a pen, drumming on the surface of the conference table and creating a soft non-rhythmic but rather annoying noise until he was quieted by a glare O'Brien shot him from across the table. The two of them didn't seem to like being assigned to the same team, and Mazzini wondered if there was something going on between them.

After having been introduced by the Captain, Detective Harris took over to fill the whole team in on what they had learned about the victims and their murders while Rodriguez was handling the digital murder board presenting the connected material and pictures.

"We've got three preschoolers that were found on Tuesday night by the sous-chef of the Blue Bird at the back alley of 178 Thompson Street. They were propped up against the wall, no visible marks or injuries on their bodies," Harris explained as they showed the pictures taken at the crime scene. The children looked as though they'd fallen asleep leaning on each other. Their eyes were closed and their expression calm. All three of them wore similar clothes and haircuts. Only the shades of their pale skin differed.

"Estimated TOD of all three of them between 11 PM on the 23rd and 6 AM the following day. COD is cardiac arrest, probably due to a toxin yet to be identified. The report suggests that they'd died in their sleep and been brought to the scene between half past seven and a quarter to nine on the 25th. The children are not related by blood. We have been able to identify one of the girls by her DNA to be Sally Shaw, 4 years, reported missing on September 10th 2019 by her parents. Her father, Paul Shaw, had taken her to the Yankees game with some friends. While discussing where to celebrate the victory, he'd lost her in the crowd. After alerting security and searching the stadium for hours, they extended the area to look for the girl."

Mazzini had listened to the story closely. It wasn't uncommon for small children to get lost like that, but they usually turned up within two hours, either found by the staff of the facility, brought along by other people who picked them up somewhere, or their parents found them themselves. In her experience, children had been taken when they didn't show up again within the following 12 hours; most of the time the kidnapper was a parent who had been denied custody or another relative.

"She wasn't seen again until she turned up dead this week," Harris continued. "Her parents died in a car accident last year, but her uncle explained that they had been told that she'd probably run away and gotten lost, and must have died unknown. The cops working the case had been investigating all sides, even considering kidnapping which they declared unlikely due to the lack of ransom calls or any other leads indicating it." Harris seemed to have doubts on that one, as did Mazzini.

"With respect to the other girl and the boy, there haven't been any DNA matches, but considering the story of Sally Shaw, it's possible that they've been missing much longer than we first thought." Rodriguez stated about the other victims.

"Now that's when you come in, Detective," Captain Davidson addressed Mazzini in an unexpected cheerful manner, "Our main goal for today is to find out the identity of those two children," she pointed to the pictures on the board, "And to see if any connections turn up between the victims or their families. You've pulled the reports?" Mazzini felt rather than saw six pairs of eyes turn to stare in her direction.

"Yes, Sir. About 450 open cases on missing children going back into 2017 that match the age. 218 from the City only. If they are one of those, we'll find out," Mazzini confirmed optimistically. If she could add anything to help solving the murder of three children, then she'd put in every effort possible. She stood and made her way to the computer to open the directory she'd linked the reports with, and Rodriguez stepped aside to let her proceed.

"To narrow down the possible missing children reports we need to compare the descriptions to the phenotypes of our victims," Captain Davidson stated handing each person some sheets while Mazzini was still busy on bringing the files up to the murder board. "These are the results Dr. Perlmutter provided after finishing the autopsies. Take a close look at it to be able to pick out matches in the reports."

Mazzini took the report as well. They were looking for a girl, approximately four or five years old judging on bone and tooth structure. "Since the children's hair had been bleached and dyed, the color in the picture obviously isn't the original. The roots of the girl's hair showed a medium shade of brown probably best described as auburn or maybe chestnut," Davidson explained the report. "Her eye color was a shade of blue. DNA as well as her skin-tone and the pigment composition suggest that there may have been some Latino relatives in the mix," she added to the description.

Mazzini tuned out the Captain's voice, preferring to read the report on her own, already used to dealing with more or less thorough descriptions of people as well as medical reports on them.

The boy wasn't much older than the girl since according to the report his bone structure suggested the age being about 5 years. Blue eyes combined with reddish hair. The chemical composition of the pigment melanin and its low level not only causing the hair color but also a light skin tone as well as a certain sensibility on UV-ray thus matching a phenotype mostly found in northern Europe especially in the British Isles; therefore most of the time associated to being Irish.

Mazzini frowned at the next bit of information since she didn't believe it to really be useful. The boy's DNA obviously showed a predisposition for Deuteranopia, a partial color blindness affecting the visual discrimination from red and green, usually inherited and linked to the male sex. Colorblindness was quite common but undiagnosed in children so it surely wouldn't be mentioned in the reports especially since it isn't possible to be visually recognized in a person. It wasn't helpful in recognizing a specific person at all. The mentioned birth mark, a mole on the nape of his neck, documented with a picture, on the other hand would most probably turn up in a description of the child.

It seemed that besides being dead, the children were in quite a good physical condition. There were no traces of malnutrition, although their diet must have consisted of vegetarian meals for at least a couple of months since they were a little low on specific kinds of protein. Compared to their respective height their weight fell below the average which, considering the medical statement was only healthy. Also their muscle tone was within normal range, maybe they hadn't gotten enough chances for physical exercise but then again that was quite common for children living in urban environments.

The report also listed some old injuries, such as an at least since more than a year healed broken forearm with the girl and an as well healed sprained right ankle and left wrist with the boy. They couldn't be sure whether those injuries happened before or after the children had gone missing, so they'd need to take them into consideration when going through the reports.

Mazzini was quite pleased with the information they had on the victims. Since they hadn't talked about race and ethnic origins before they were able to rule out all African American children as well as those of Asian background at once what narrowed it down to about half the reports.

"I've already separated the reports by gender so it'd be best to split up looking for the girl and boy," Mazzini suggested.

"Harris, Rodriguez, you, Caltonati and O'Brien take a look at the reports on missing girls," Davidson decided and Mazzini noticed that Caltonati was winking at O'Brien who in turn looked away, a barely hidden annoyed expression to her face. "We'll take care of the boy," the Captain motioned for the rest of the group, Jones' anticipation almost palpable and loading up the atmosphere.

After Mazzini had provided all of them with the directory to the files they sat scattered throughout the room, each one scanning through one report after the other, forgoing the search function in order to not to miss anything. After the first half hour proved fruitless, O'Brien had offered to make some coffee, the caffeine helping to keep their minds from wandering off to all of the shattered families that were written between the lines of the quite clinical descriptions, sometimes popping up in the shape of their collected personal statements. Even the rookie's excitement had worn off pretty quickly after reading the first reports; being replaced by a grim yet determined expression.

"I think I found something," the excitement returning to the young detective's face that accompanied his statement was drawing attention from the rest of the team and almost instantly brightened up the mood.

Mazzini stood and walked over to Jones where Davidson was already bending down reading along over his shoulder as he recounted: "Ian Pherson, born 9th December 2015, living uptown, reported missing by his Nanny Andrea Collins in August 2018 after she'd according to her statement she'd lost sight of him on a visit to the Central Park Zoo on Sunday the 26th. His parents were traveling on business at the time. Description seems to match," Jones added pulling up a photo from the report depicting the two year old red head catching a ball. It was hard to tell if the boy matched only by sight, children at that age changed pretty fast. They'd need the techs to run their magic on the pictures to be sure.

"And the birth mark? Any mention of that?" Davidson questioned after looking at the picture as well.

"I don't…," the young detective's voice trailed off while he scrolled down through the report past the description what kind of clothes the boy had been wearing when he'd disappeared. "It doesn't look like…," he stated disappointed when Rodriguez cut in.

"Wait, up again. There!" He pointed at the screen. "A strawberry mark on his neck," he cited. "That's it. It's gotta be him. You got him, buddy," the older cop gave Jones a pat on the back in congratulation who beamed proudly in response.

"It would seem so," Davidson confirmed nodding. "Take the pictures to tech for further confirmation, contact the cops working the case and find out about next of kin to inform them and bring 'em in," she addressed the rookie before turning to the rest of the team encouraging them, "One down, one to go."

It was Caltonati who was lucky next time; as was O'Brien. They had two close matches on the girl. Mazzini wasn't surprised since her hair color was quite common and they didn't have something to go on like Ian's birth mark. One of the reports even lacked a photo.

After going through all the remaining reports, needing to make sure that there wasn't another boy or girl matching their victims; it was way past 2 PM.

"So, we've got either Teresa Hamilton or Melissa Williams," Davidson stated, "Let's take a short lunch break and meet up in, let's say, 25 to look closely at those two reports," she dismissed them causing a sigh to bubble through the team before nearly all members spilled out into the bullpen. Mazzini wasn't in a hurry though only stretching her arms and leaning back in her seat.

"Break, Mazzini." The Captain reinforced watching her.

"I'm good here," the detective stated meaningfully pointing at the yet again half emptied third refill in her cup. She had an uneasy feeling when the other woman eyed her doubtfully.

"You really should take your break, Detective," she was addressed again when she'd picked up her tablet. Her gaze wandered to the picture of the dead girl on the murder board. They were so close to IDing her. Mazzini wasn't pleased in giving up now even if it was only for half an hour.

"With all due respect," she replied earning a frown, "You've called me to help and that's what I'm here for. I don't need a break, Sir," quickly adding the formal address to soften her statement. The other woman arms crossed in front of her chest didn't respond though. Mazzini considered the possibility that a small break maybe would have helped her relax instead of lashing out on her superior. She finally stood grabbing her cup and silently suggested calling it a draw when she explained she'd maybe get a fresh one and left the conference room.

When she returned to the conference room five minutes later, the Captain had left as well. Stepping up to the murder board, Mazzini sipped at the steaming dark liquid, taking a close look at the portrait of the dead girl. The detective wondered if the child had felt any pain when she died. Judging on her peaceful expression she maybe hadn't. Hopefully.

Mazzini picked up her tablet to scan the reports again. Considering they were dealing with kidnappings, maybe the way the children had disappeared would help them to narrow it down to the right ID. Sally as well as Ian had been lost in a public and rather crowded area. Both of them on weekends. No traces left behind. Teresa had gone missing when she was going for a walk in a park with her older brother on a Thursday. The next day her backpack had been found two blocks away. It didn't fit the other stories. Melissa, the girl from the report without a picture, on the other hand had disappeared when her mother had been hailing a cab on their way home from the mall. On a Saturday. Mazzini was pretty sure the latter was the girl they were looking for.

She lifted her head, and smilingly addressing the murder board she murmured, "Your name is Melissa, isn't it?"

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**Author's note**: I don't have a clue how many children matching our victims are reported missing per year so I made those numbers up loosely based on the "Missing Persons Clearinghouse 2012 Annual Report" from the website of the New York State Division of Criminal Justice Service. You can easily google it.

Concerning the reports on the two victims I fear it's obvious that I have even less knowledge on forensics and DNA. I did some research but considering you may want this chapter to be up before Christmas I gave up on checking all possibilities and methods. So if you notice any severe mistakes please tell me and I may be able to change it.


	14. In case

**Author's note**: Thanks to all of my readers who keep following this story but also to those who have only discovered it recently. And I'm especially grateful for the help of my beta annem57 who's blisteringly fast in returning each chapter – I don't know how you do it.

**Disclaimer**: I do neither own the show nor any of the characters. Only this little plot idea which I borrow them for is mine.

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**Chapter 14 - In case**

_**Kate's POV**_

**Monday, May 31****st**** 2021**

When Kate entered her office on Monday morning she felt much more relaxed than only some days earlier. They were still far from solving the doll case, but had found some strong leads over the last few days. Thanks to the information Mr. Shaw, uncle to Sally Shaw, one of the murdered girls, provided they had gained knowledge, about the child being missing for quite some time. Detective Genna Mazzini, working missing persons, assigning to the case had helped in finding out about missing children matching the other two victims.

The better part of Sunday had been spent in informing family and officially ID'ing the bodies at last. Kate had talked to the officers and family members, and consoled those for some time by just letting them tell her about their kids when they had still been alive and with them. She had assured them that the NYPD were determined to find out what had happened and the guys who did it. She had looked at photos of brighter times and listened patiently and compassionately to sad stories about what kind of a hole had been ripped into their families, into their lives, by taking their children from them.

But it wasn't as hard on her as she had expected. In fact Kate knew they had made huge progress in the case. The 'disappearances' of the children and their murders had to be related somehow. Since they now knew a lot more about the victims, they had places for their investigation to start on. All the tragedies she had learned about aside, Kate knew they were in a good place to find out what had happened to them and therefore she was somehow relieved. At least they had already managed to give them their names back. And now they were working to find out who killed Sally, Ian and Melissa.

She had also talked to the Chief of Detectives, who confirmed that since they had leads to go on he would refrain from bringing the feds in, at least for the time being. He wasn't that eager to have taken the case away from the NYPD as well, which would inevitably happen the moment they went to the FBI to consult. But he had also made clear that if there should turn up connections to the case in Chicago, they wouldn't be able to keep jurisdiction over it anymore. As though she didn't knew. That had been the exact reason why she was keeping the similarities low-profile, until she could be certain that the cases were connected. On Tuesday, a Chicago PD officer would come to New York and they would go through their cases together. But she had to acknowledge that it wasn't too far off, since their two bodies from over seven years ago seemed to have great similarities. But Kate had decided to look on the bright side in the meantime and just keep going and pushing the case herself.

And for the first time since having been made Captain, she had taken her bike after leaving the precinct last night and gone for a ride. Just for a while, she had allowed herself to enjoy the road, the speed and the force against her body taking all the tension of the last days away with it, setting her free. She was almost able to feel the vibrating bike beneath again, when she thought about it now, the wind tugging at the loose strands leaking out between the edge of her helmet and the collar of her tight suit. She could nearly hear the purring of the engine echoing in her ears and relive the game of balance leaning into every curve on her way. She'd just enjoyed herself allowing her to let go. And to be honest she had realized how much she had missed it. Coming back home exhaustion had finally set in. It had been that sweet kind of just feeling heavy, being dragged to the ground because of being worn out. After a quick shower, she had fallen into bed and a dreamless sleep had caught her for eight hours straight.

That's why she was coming in to work this morning a lot more relaxed. After having spoken to Rodriguez, who had arrived before her at the precinct, filling in more information on the murder board, she had entered her office, dropped her bag beside the desk, and brought the computer to life. She intended to go over the case file from Chicago before meeting up with the officer the next day.

She was just about to read the timeline their colleagues had put together when her desk phone rang. "Davidson," she more like bellowed when she picked up.

"Sir, this is Detective Delaney, I'm sorry to disturb you." Kate already reminded herself of staying professional. Delaney worked robbery at the 21st.

"Don't worry. Go on," she replied in a friendlier tone.

"It's about a case of burglary that has been reported this morning. The owner of the gallery demanded it to be handled by the head of the precinct."

Kate rolled her eyes. It didn't happen very often but sometimes people refused to let their cases be worked on following the usual Police routine. They had their own department for robbery and burglary and people like Delaney specialized in those kinds of cases. Some citizens of New York however, most times belonging to the upper class, just didn't seem to be satisfied by that and instead wanted to be treated in a special way. She knew it was her job as a Captain to satisfy these kinds of people despite disagreeing with them.

"I see. Just give me the number and I'll make a call," she suggested but Delaney replied after a short pause that the owner wanted her to come over in person. Kate rolled her eyes again but knew that there was no point in arguing. She was sure, that Delaney had tried everything possible when talking to the gallery owner, and she was pretty sure it wasn't his fault. So she sighed silently and wrote down the address, putting her computer into locked mode and already retrieving her bag for the drive.

About twenty minutes later she arrived at the site, where Delaney was waiting for her. She gave him a sympathetic smile which was only answered by a nod. He quickly briefed her about the case. Patricia O'Neil, the gallery owner, had reported the burglary right after coming in at 7:30 AM. There were no traces of a violent break-in since the lock was still unharmed and the shutter in place as well just the way she had left it Sunday night. Only on entering the gallery she had found damages to some of the art pieces and one painting being missing. Delaney handed her his notes and told her, that Mrs. O'Neil was waiting in her office at the back of her gallery with her insurance agent and a counsel. Two CSU techs were looking for evidence as well. Delaney was obviously glad that he had an opportunity to leave the gallery while waiting for the Captain to arrive. 'That bad, huh?' Kate thought bracing herself for whatever kind of person Mrs. O'Neil was.

"What can you tell me about the owner?" she wanted to gather some more information before going in.

"Patricia O'Neil, 37, not married, wealthy father who owns several consulting companies throughout the country with the head office sitting in NYC. Mother deceased two years ago due to cancer; left her a good pile of money, half of which directly went into some preexisting charity funds. The other half obviously was used to fund another one to sponsor young artists and display their work at the gallery which she has owned for about seven years." Kate nodded, getting a first impression of the woman she'd have to deal with.

"Thanks, Delaney. Please go back to the precinct and file what you've got. I'll take it from here." He seemed kind of relieved as he made his way to the car.

When Kate had entered the gallery, she first took the whole scene in. It was a wide and well lit room, spotlights deftly illuminating the pieces of art, mostly paintings and prints of different sizes and styles. They probably had been created by different artists. Some of them were abstract and others portrayed different scenes and people. But there were also two installations, one being an abstract sculpture in the center of the room consisting of brownish, greenish and white pieces of glass probably from broken bottles, seeming to float through the air, not giving away how they were held in place and a video installation in a darkened corner on the right side of the gallery showing changing faces but the screens were partly over painted with broad red strokes and the image of closed eyes in fine black lines on it, a theme which was repeated on the paintings that also featured people or something looking like faces all throughout the gallery. It seemed the guys hadn't left a single one out. CSU had already placed little numbers next to the damaged paintings.

"You've missed something. There's paint and maybe a partial foot print over there," she pointed to a smudge on the floor drawing the attention of the CSU techs, and one of them came over to take a closer look. Lifting her jacket and pointing at the shield attached to her belt, Kate asked where to find the gallery owner.

"Back in, second door to the left," one of them pointed backwards and Kate spotted the corner.

She was just about to turn left when she practically ran into somebody and was pushed back. Looking up, she was surprised to recognize Castle.

"What are you doing here?" they both asked simultaneously, stopping in their tracks. Obviously he was as surprised to meet her as she was. Kate figured it was his place to answer first. After all she was the cop and he was a civilian at a crime scene. And he did.

"Pat," he pointed behind himself, "is a friend and Irene is her insurance agent." Kate looked over his shoulder to spot an agitated woman, whose flaming red locks were roughly gathered with a hairclip. She was hugging Castle's girlfriend who Kate knew from meeting her at Nate's birthday party. That must have been 'Pat' O'Neil. More of Castle's type than Irene as she figured, careful not to let her thoughts show. She kept her smile.

"So she is here for work and you're here for," she paused before completing the question "comfort?"

"Partly," he stated, "but actually Pat had asked for me to consult on the case." Consult? Castle? Kate scoffed, taking another glance at the redhead who seemed to have put on some tears in the meantime. A real drama queen obviously.

"And what exactly would qualify you to do so?" she let out noticing at the same time that she somehow sounded upset. 'Get your act together!' Kate called herself to order.

He stared at her but answered after a moment anyway. "Firstly, there is my experience in doing research and solving crimes," he held up his right hand to stop her from interrupting him and she closed her mouth again without saying what she had intended to, "and secondly she trusts me as opposed to the police."

Kate gasped. Should she be offended? "And thirdly because of that Irene and Pat figured I could use my connections to the NYPD to collaborate on the case." He probably meant his fans at City Hall, and in the upper echelons of the force.

Kate let out snort before speaking up. "Yup, well they figured wrong. I'm the police. And that clearly will not happen. I'm going to speak to Mrs. O'Neil myself."

She was about to pass by when Castle grabbed her arm. "Wait!" She looked down at his hand in bewilderment and he instantly loosened his grip without letting it go though.

"Why not?" He demanded to know. "We've done it before. Solving cases together, you know?" Why did he want to do this anyway? Only for his girlfriend? What was he going to get out of this?

Kate glared at him for a moment before answering. "No, Castle. I don't see any sense in that. This is plain police work, no excitement. You'd only get bored." She vividly remembered him oscillating between being overly excited on especially freaky murders and twisted sets of stories connecting multiple possible suspects to their victims to being downright bored by the average pop and drop. And those cases back then had at least been about murder. In contrast, this case would probably be anything but enthralling to him.

Castle didn't respond though. "There is really nothing interesting about this case," Kate amplified, "just some burglary and property damage. No dead bodies or anything that could be interesting to you or what you could use for one of your books. I'm sure Detective Delaney will be fine handling it." Kate was sure Castle must have gotten the message now and pulled back a little.

The author finally let go of her arm but not without trying again once more: "It isn't always about murder, Beckett. You know that." Kate resisted the sudden urge to rub her arm, not that it would hurt but because she wanted to brush off the sensation of his touch still ghosting there while he continued his explanation. "Those eyes and blindfolds, that's special, there's a story about it and I'd like to know why they did it. Why do you spend all the time over painting pictures when you actually only want to steal one of them?"

When speaking his last sentence he had turned to one of the pictures nearby, a printing showing a picnic scene in comic style with the people's eyes over painted with pink blindfolds and closed eye lids. Kate couldn't help but look at the picture. He was right but just because he wanted to find out the story of the thieves, that didn't mean she would allow him to join their investigation. She glared at him.

"No, Castle, you're not going to bother my Detectives by digging your nose in the case."

"But, Beckett...," he nearly whined. Why did he always have to call her Beckett?

Kate frowned and cut him off by waving her hand. "Not gonna happen," she shook her head.

"You know, this is fate. We were brought here together for a purpose. We should do this together." Kate's eyes widened when he spoke of fate. That was so typically Castle, bringing something irrational like fate into the discussion to serve his point and get his way. But she wasn't willing to play his game. "The universe wants us to investigate this together. You don't want to let the universe down, do you?" he reinforced. That was enough.

"The universe? Really?" Kate couldn't help but snort another time. This was getting ridiculous. "I won't fall for that, Castle. You should do better." '... and you should know me better,' she added in her thoughts, never having been one to believe in fate or some other higher power directing their lives.

For some seconds they glared at each other. Castle obviously didn't want to give in. "Look Beckett, I'm not going away. Pat asked me to help and I will do just that one way or the other. If I can't help you guys, then I'll look into it on my own. Your detective, who has already left by the way, didn't seem to take it seriously anyway. I'd bet I can solve the case before you guys do." Castle's voice had taken on a more serious tone.

If he wanted to play it that way it should be okay with her. She stepped up to him again staring in his eyes. "If you think so. Do as you please, Castle, but be aware, if you should hinder my detectives in doing their work at any time you might end up being arrested."

Suddenly a spark lit up his eyes. "What is it, Beckett, that you always want to cuff me?" Castle stated grinning. 'He doesn't take me seriously,' Kate realized annoyed while also suddenly noticing their proximity. He stood close. Way too close. But she quickly shoved the nervous fluttering aside, which was spreading through her gut, since she wasn't willing to let herself be distracted in any way. She would not back down. She would not let herself be intimidated; especially not by this man. It was her place to be in charge and she would reinforce it. She straightened her jacket and made sure her professional smile was still in place. If he wanted to play Detective she couldn't do a thing about it but he would definitely have to do it without her.

"Only in your dreams, Castle," she sarcastically answered not faltering. "You and me working together? That won't happen again. Ever," Kate added emphatically.

His grin was gone as she could notice pleased, instead a hint of anger was showing in his eyes. "Fine," he nearly spat the single word through his gritted teeth in response.

"Yeah fine," she shot back. With a last glare he rushed past her as she made her way to the office.

'Well, that conversation could have gone better,' Kate thought frowning. Replaying it in her mind she couldn't help but compare them to stubborn teenagers stomping their feet. She slightly shook her head at that picture. But at least they had talked. She was willing to acknowledge it to be some kind of progress in their current situation.

This surely wasn't the luckiest of her weeks or months in fact. Not having heard or seen anything concerning Castle for over 10 years now, she bumped right into him at a crime scene only after meeting him at Alexis'? If she'd not known better she would have suspected him to have done it on purpose.

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**Author's note**: I figured as head of the precinct Kate wouldn't only have to deal with "exciting" (or rather "disturbing") homicide cases and she most definitely would have to keep her eye on different cases at a time. I hope I didn't overdo Castle offering his help but I think Kate wouldn't let him weasel his way back in that easy after all those years.

I'd appreciate your feedback either as review or PM. Please tell me what you think about it.


	15. The Woman

**Author's note**: Thanks to my regular as well as all new readers and all who review and follow or even favorite. Special thanks to my very patient beta annem57. This chapter gave me a hard time and I can't say I'm particularly happy the way it turned out but I hope you like it anyway.

**Disclaimer**: Do I really have to repeat this? Yes? Okay then once more: I do not own "Castle" or the characters on the show.

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**Chapter 15 – The Woman**

_**Irene's POV**_

**Monday, May 31****st**** 2021**

Irene was listening patiently to her friend Pat when she heard Rick arguing with someone right outside the office. That was strange, since she thought he'd already left. When she glanced outside, Rick was walking away. Irene looked at the person he had been talking to, and recognized her from Nate's birthday party. What was _she_ doing here?

Irene looked down at Pat, who was wiping away some tears and decided to take matters into her own hands. Putting on her most perfect smile, she turned to the brunette, shielding her shaken friend from her.

"I'm sorry Katie, due to an incident the gallery isn't open today. Please come agai…" but before she could finish her sentence, she was cut off by the other woman.

"I know and that's why I'm here actually." Irene followed the gaze of the other woman who was tapping on something attached to her belt, a shield. Police. Oh. _Oh_. She startled for a moment while Katie – the cop? – slipped past her and addressed Pat.

"Mrs. O'Neil? I'm Captain Davidson with the NYPD. I'm here to look over your case. The officers have already told me about it, but maybe could we talk in private about what exactly happened?" She wanted her gone? Irene wasn't that easy to get rid of. She was there not only to help a client, but also a dear friend.

She'd known Pat since they'd first met at college. They'd shared a dorm room at Harvard and over the course of time their dreams and problems as well. At first, it was hard for them to get along since Irene had no experience in dealing with people like Pat who seemed to be incapable of taking anything seriously. Her artistic ways had been foreign to Irene but when she got to know her, she'd realized they came from a similar family background: they weren't that different.

"I can stay, if you want me to," Irene offered, glancing at Pat while she took the USB drive from the desk and let it slide into her purse. Rick must have forgotten to take it with him.

Her friend shook her head, red locks bouncing up and down at the movement, when she answered: "It's ok; I think I can handle it, Irene. See you later?" The last one was more of a question than a statement.

"Sure, one o'clock at the usual." Irene confirmed their lunch date at a restaurant around the corner, getting a nod in response.

"See you, Irene!" Pat smiled at her, gratitude shining in her eyes. Her friend had already regained her composure.

"See you then." Irene turned to leave the office her purse clutched to her waist.

"Thank you," Katie said in a polite and neutral tone, turning her face halfway to the younger woman smiling at her. For a moment Irene was pondering if she shouldn't just stay with Pat anyway, not quite sure what to think of Katie – Captain Davidson. But since they would meet up later, they could always talk then so she schooled her expression to not let any hints of irritation show and left the office, pulling the door shut.

Maybe she could catch up with Rick if she hurried. Striding through the gallery Irene nodded at the CSU Officers. She reached into her to purse to fish for her phone, but as she dialed his number the call was redirected to voicemail. Argh, that man. Always playing with his phone but never to be reached. Earlier he had said that he would do some research, so he was probably heading for the loft. On the other hand, he had been arguing with the captain and rushed away suspiciously. Maybe he'd changed his plans? Sometimes it wasn't very easy to read what he was up to. Looking at her watch, she saw that there was more than an hour and a half before her next appointment with a client, so she could actually go to the loft and try to catch him. She could bring him the photos of the stolen painting and the rest of the information Pat had prepared for him which he had left at the office anyway, so why shouldn't she do it now? She put out her hand to hail a cab and gave the driver the address of the loft while settling in.

Her thoughts travelled back to her friend. Pat had always been a remarkable person, sparkling with exultation at any occasion. Finding her gallery this way in the morning, however, had left her nearly despondent. Somebody, who didn't know her that well, would maybe think her reactions were nothing but the act of a poor little rich girl trying to get attention but it wasn't any of this. It wasn't about the money either, that's sure because as her insurance agent Irene could tell, that because of her generous preparations in the past all the damage was covered by their special policy. But she knew for Pat it was really about the art works. That gallery was her life and she was gladly offering young artists sponsorship and support in pursuing their talent. The way Irene knew her friend, she worried about letting down the people who had entrusted her with their works. She doubted the police would understand that. To them it was usually only about the numbers, about how much it had been worth, and as far as she has experienced they rarely were able to recover the stolen pieces anyway.

That's why she had suggested hiring a private detective, who wasn't bound by some stupid police protocol. Her insurance company did that from time to time, especially in high profile cases. But Pat had refused to let someone she didn't know work on the case. That's where Rick came in, and he'd offered to help. Since he had some unconventional connections, ranging from the NYPD to the mob, as he had once bragged about, and was well experienced in doing research because of his books, Irene had been willing to give it a shot and encouraged Pat to take him on. She smiled at remembering how Rick had barely hidden his excitement once he realized that they had said yes.

A short time later, she walked up the corridor and knocked at his door. "Irene?" Her boyfriend seemed surprised, but gave her a peck on the cheek, when he opened the door.

"Hi Rick." She smiled up at him as though turning up at his doorstep un announced was just the normal thing to do. It actually wasn't. They had been dating for a while now and of course she had been to the loft quite often. But usually she had been invited for dinner beforehand or she came to spend the night after they had been out, on those rare occasions when he didn't come back to stay at her apartment. She sometimes wondered if he was uncomfortable with her being at the loft but she wasn't sure about the reason why. She knew men needed their space sometimes and maybe it was because the loft was not only his home but also his work area. She presumed having your girlfriend at the place where you wrote books to make a living, could be quite distracting. She wondered what it would be like to have him around all day while working. She usually liked to focus on her tasks and since he joked around a lot of the time they spent together, she doubted that would work. She loved his charming character and his playfulness besides certain other attractive features, but that was nice for downtime, not when it came to the job.

While Irene was caught up in her thoughts, Rick let her in, taking her jacket from her and motioning for the kitchen, where she sat down on one of the barstools. "I'm glad you're home. You were gone so quickly that I wasn't able to catch up," she decided to start a conversation.

"I thought you wanted to stay with Pat to support her." Irene frowned at his statement, while she watched him turning to the coffee machine, before hesitantly answering.

"Yeah, but somehow I got sent off." Her thoughts travelled back to the cop, but she quickly put her smile back on and continued on a lighter note: "You know those cops, always eager to mark their territory. Besides, Pat is okay. She was a little shocked but she will get better. After all, it's only property damage and our insurance will cover that."

She knew it was more to her friend, but it wasn't necessary to discuss this with Rick. He nodded in response and handed her a mug of coffee. Only sugar, no milk, just the way she liked it. Irene thanked him with a smile and was grateful as he smiled back at her.

"So, why did you come here?" Rick questioned, while she took a first sip, and made her aware of the USB drive. Reaching into her purse, she took it out and handed it to him.

"The pictures; you must have forgotten them. I assumed you would like to start on your research right away and in that case they would be useful, wouldn't they?"

"Yeah, you're right. I've been looking for it already, had only my own snap shots. Thanks." He gazed down on the little piece of metal.

"You'd just needed to call, darling, Pat would have told you." She laughed lightly in response but when she used this term of endearment Irene noticed that he hadn't returned it in a while and seemed to be more distant lately. Maybe she should ask him about it? But she knew that wasn't something they'd actually talk about. So she decided to go for a different subject.

"What were you talking about with Katie?" she asked innocently looking at him over the rim of the mug which was resting at her lips, both of her hands wrapped around it. "I saw you before you left," she added when he didn't answer right away.

"I suggested that I could assist on the case, investigate together with them," Rick casually shrugged. As Irene recalled the scene, it hadn't really looked as though her boyfriend and the cop had been having a particularly civilized conversation about his suggestion.

"I take it she didn't like the idea," she mused aloud earning a head shake for response.

"If I recall her words right, she actually said that working together won't ever happen again," Rick explained, sticking his head into the fridge where he was rummaging through the contents, obviously looking for some ingredients to make a sandwich for a second breakfast. 'What was he saying? Again?' Irene looked at his back. Lucky he wouldn't catch the look of surprise or maybe even shock that she quickly hid on her face before he turned around again.

"You've worked with her before?" she asked, not completely sure that she'd gotten it right.

"Yeah," he nodded, already having spread out all the chosen ingredients on the counter, unscrewing a jar and picking up a knife to apply a thick layer of creamy peanut butter on a slice of bread. Suddenly frowning, he looked up at Irene, who was lost for words. He'd not only known Katie before, but even worked together with her? Why hadn't he mentioned that at the party?

"I'd shadowed her team, worked with them on different cases. That was a long time ago. No big deal actually," yet another shrug didn't really convince her. Irene slowly shook her head, looking down into the already empty mug, not willing to let go of it since she wouldn't know where to put her hands then. Wait a minute. He had shadowed Katie, the cop, the NYPD captain or officer or whatever? That somehow rang a bell.

"She's Detective Heat, isn't she?" Irene remembered the female cop character featured in one of Rick's mystery and crime novel series. Considering the relationship of the two lead characters, Irene wondered if he and the cop had been together at the time, and what had happened. It would definitely fit to the scene at the gallery, but on the other hand she hadn't gotten the impression they even knew each other very well when they were at the birthday party. The author was about to cut a tomato when he stopped mid motion to look up at her, surprise openly shown in his eyes.

"You read them?" Of course she had. Why was that surprising? She'd started reading some of his novels after they'd met for the first time. Irene had never quite been into these kinds of books but she'd enjoyed getting some insight into his work, finding out about the man she'd taken interest in. And the books were actually not that bad. In fact she'd read all three of the Heat series, and had been a little disappointed about the ending of 'Burning Heat'.

Irene nodded. "Why did you stop writing them?" she couldn't suppress the curiosity. She'd considered asking him before but this occasion was as good as any.

"It was time to move on to something new; a new challenge," he only looked up again when he offered her half of the sandwich by pushing the plate over the counter, taking a bite of the other half himself.

"No, thanks," Irene waved off, glancing down at her watch and sighed. In less than an hour, she had to meet a new client. Maybe the two of them could pick up that topic another time. Given that Rick was an author; it was quite strange that they so rarely talked about his own books. "I need to get going again," she explained apologetically when he pulled the plate back again.

"Oh and Rick, I almost forgot. I'm going to meet Pat for lunch. I thought maybe you'd like to join us?" Irene slipped off the stool. Something was off, she could tell. Was it because she'd asked about the books? He still smiled, but he appeared to be kind of distracted, and it seemed to Irene that his mind was on other things. She didn't let her worry show though. He obviously wasn't willing to share what was bothering him, so she didn't ask. If it was something important he would come around and tell her eventually. There was no need or sense in pushing.

"That would be nice, but I don't think I'd be able to make it. I've got an idea where to start looking about the stolen picture and I don't know how long it will take," Rick answered as he walked her to the door and got her jacket. "Besides, I guess I should stop by the office as well to check on Henry. Make sure there's no funny business when I'm out of sight." Irene laughed at the grimace Rick was making, and nudged him.

"Trust issues?" she jokingly questioned, "He's worked for you for years now and he's very experienced. You know he's totally capable of taking care of Cheimon on his own, giving you more freedom to make your own plans. That's why you put him in that position, isn't it?" She'd met the CEO of the publishing house on different occasions and had no doubt he was doing a good job. Maybe it was inherited, but usually she could easily tell if people working in management were able to handle the responsibilities, or trying to hide that they were unable to cope with the pressure. Henry Burton definitely didn't belong to the latter category. But she was sure Rick knew that himself.

When he pulled the door open Irene laid her right hand on his arm as she leaned up to give him a peck. "Let me know if you find anything about the burglary," she begged.

"I will," he promised smiling and added "See you soon" which made her own smile grew wider in return.

"Bye, Rick. Love you," she answered casually but whispering the last sentence barely audible, quite unsure how he'd take it and turned around heading for the elevator to keep her appointment.

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**Author's note**: Thoughts?


	16. On your own account

**Author's note**: I know some of you will be glad to hear we're back on Castle's POV. Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about him over the case.

I need to once again thank my beta annem57 who's so quickly at working through the chapters and whose suggestions really help a lot to improve my writing (especially grammatically) and along other things getting the prepositions right. Thank you!

Gotta mention that we cracked the 100st in reviews and therefore I don't want to miss thanking all of my readers and reviewers especially the ones who regularly exchange PMs with me, give me feedback and help to inspire, challenge and encourage me to continue this story.

**Disclaimer**: Just to let you know: I most definitely don't own "Castle", never will – probably.

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**Chapter 16 – On your own account**

_**Castle's POV**_

**Monday, May 31****st**** 2021**

Rick closed the door after Irene was gone, and while his mind was still busy processing the words, he wasn't quite sure whether she had said or if he had imagined it. Had she just said that she loved him? No, he must have gotten it wrong. Why would she say something like that at his doorstep before walking away, without giving him a chance to react? That wouldn't make any sense.

But why would he imagine she'd say it? Did he wish for her to say it? Would he want to say the words himself? He looked at the barstool Irene had sat on only a short time before. No, he didn't believe he loved her. He really liked her. He was attracted to her, no doubt. They understood each other. They definitely enjoyed the time they spent together; in every possible aspect. But love?

Rick shook his head, glad his attention was drawn to the data drive he weighed in his hand. Right. The pictures. Helping Patricia 'Pat' O'Neil, that's what he had been up to. He went over to the study and popped the USB drive into his notebook connecting it to the smart board. Shortly, a folder symbol appeared on the screen which he opened to find a series of pictures taken at the scene in the gallery. You had to give Pat her due; she had been quite thorough in documenting the scene she had come across when going into work earlier. She'd taken a photo of each and every art piece that had been 'decorated' by the burglar just the way she had found them as well as pictures of the whole gallery, the place where the missing painting used to hang marked by two spots lighting up the blank wall and last but not least the – unharmed - lock and door. There were even some close ups from those dark linear eyes where you could nearly feel the craggy surface the brush had created in applying the color. These pictures had their own appeal in terms of aesthetics. Obviously the gallerist was a talented photographer too, even though that wasn't of any concern to the case.

There was a second folder within the other documents named 'spr2021'. He assumed that folder contained information on the pieces Pat had on display on her current spring exhibition, and probably the one that had been stolen as well. Looking into it, he found some lists on the art pieces, descriptions of what they were featuring, and how they had been arranged for display. There was some information on the artists as well as photos of paintings and sculptures.

Rick decided to set aside these pieces of information for later use since he wanted to go for the painted eyes first. There was something about these eyes that was important. They were important. He needed to figure out what they meant. Why would some burglar paint over all these art pieces? Why would they choose this specific theme? What message were the eyes sending? There were lots of possibilities what the eyes could mean, different symbolisms which would pick up eyes. He had talked to Pat about it, but she came up empty on whom or why somebody would send her such a message. She was also completely clueless about what it all meant.

Maybe he could find out about the artist by the painted eyes themselves. The photos were pretty good so if somebody recognized the style, they would hopefully be able to trace the guy responsible. And Rick knew exactly who to turn to. Arthur Stern, Dr. Arthur Stern actually, was Professor for history of art at Columbia but also very interested in modern art and some of his current and former students had fearlessly chosen to dive into visual arts themselves professionally. So Rick figured maybe if he was lucky, Arthur might know the guy. He quickly grabbed his keys and the tablet with the uploaded pictures and rushed to leave the loft. Pressing the button to direct the elevator down to the basement, he decided to take one of his own cars just to be more mobile in case Arthur could provide him with some useful information on where to go to find the guy. On the elevator ride Rick gave his friend a quick call to see if he was even available and told him that he would come to his office.

When he pulled the car out into the early noon traffic his thoughts travelled back to Irene's visit. It had been unexpected since she usually didn't turn up at the loft like that. The atmosphere had been strangely tense as though they'd crossed a line he wasn't sure he wanted to. Their attempts at a conversation had totally lacked the usual lightness. Irene questioning him about Beckett surely hadn't helped the situation.

Beckett. That woman kept appearing everywhere lately. For a moment he wondered how it would have gone down if they'd first met at the gallery that day, not at the hospital and not because of her being Alexis' new neighbor. How would she have reacted then? Would she have run of just the way she did at the hospital? Due to meeting at a crime scene – her territory – he didn't think so. Rick sighed rubbing his hand over his face careful not to let the traffic out of sight. Maybe his speech from earlier hadn't been that far off. Maybe it _was_ the universe telling him something. But what message would that be? It was more likely to be some godly joke and they were nothing but guinea pigs in a maze. Ok, now he was really being ridiculous.

Before Pat had agreed to let him look into the break in and his run in with his former muse, the thought of working together with her again hadn't even crossed his mind. Her utter and total refusal on his spontaneous suggestion had left him quite angry though. Beckett had acted as though he was nothing but a nuisance and maybe even a liability, obviously totally ignoring the fact that they had been a pretty good team in solving crimes for more than a year. Hell, he'd even saved her life, several times. Brows angrily furrowed, Rick nearly hit the steering wheel when he shook his head at himself, wondering where this atypical urge for a frustrated outburst had suddenly come from.

As much fun it would have been to revive old times, he didn't need Beckett to help in his research. He'd done enough of it for his books before and after. Sometimes it probably was even easier to get information being in his position than working with the police. It wouldn't surprise him if he'd find the criminals before the police could manage to. After all he already had a very good feeling about these painted eyes, and was pretty sure Art would be able to help him; make it a strong lead.

Only half an hour later, Rick entered Arthur's office at the campus. He was glad his friend had time to talk to him and didn't need to give a class or was buried in some scientific books in his 'cave' working on his latest theory on the developments in modern art or finding the next Van Gogh of modern times.

"So, what's up, Rick? It sounded pretty urgent," Arthur asked and motioned for Rick to sit down on the opposite side of his desk in the rather small room. The office seemed to even look smaller because of the dark wooden bookshelves covering most of the walls, filled with books and what appeared to be a large collection of theses of students Arthur had been advisor for.

"You have pretty good insight on what's going on in the scene, Art, don't ya?" Rick began.

"Schmoozing me, Rick?" Arthur laughingly questioned. "Doesn't really suit you. Just tell me what you want and I'll see if I can help you. Looking for a new illustrator maybe?"

Rick shook his head. "No, I actually wanted to ask your help in identifying the artist of a specific picture or rather pictures. You know a friend of mine owns this small gallery and found it being burglarized in the morning. Strange thing is whoever did it left some marks in terms of their own paintings." Arthur had been nodding all the while, his eyes even lighting up with interest on the last part. "Thought you could take a look at it and help me out," Rick casually suggested when he handed the tablet over.

Arthur pushed the glasses he was wearing up on the bridge of his nose, sliding his thumb over the display to flip from one picture to the next, all of them showing different versions of the blindfolds and eyes. Rick waited patiently for his friend to respond and tried to fight back the disappointment that started to settle in the longer the silence lasted. Judging on the way Arthur was repeatedly shaking his head, he probably didn't recognize the painting style.

"I'm sorry, I can't help you but maybe you should take a look at the street scene and ask somebody there," Arthur eventually shrugged apologetically.

"Why do you say that?" Rick furrowed his brows at his friend, looking down at the tablet Arthur was still holding in his hand.

"These eyes everywhere? Don't they remind you of something?" Rick looked up at Arthur, trying to decipher what he meant and down at the picture shown on the display once again, when he suddenly realized what he had been overlooking all the time.

"It's a tag! It's not specifically about the eyes but it's some kind of tagging," Rick finally exclaimed.

"Yeah, I think so," Arthur nodded and started to explain: "These brushstrokes are easily applied, no wavering or hesitation, every one exact to the point. The guy who painted these," he nodded towards the tablet, "has painted them before. Very often, probably. And the abstract form of eyes seems to be a motif easy enough to be sprayed in mere seconds. It clearly seems to be some kind of tagging, although it isn't very common to use brushes and this kind of color instead of spray cans for tags."

Rick nodded his head in agreement. Why hadn't he seen it before? It's not the eyes which were the message in itself about some_thing_ but actually about some_one_. Now the only thing he needed to do was to find this certain someone the tag belonged to by following their trail. His face broke into a broad smile as he realized just how much of progress he had been making by coming.

While Rick was thinking, Arthur continued filling him in on major knowledge about tagging and graffiti. "Usually graffiti, which tags belong to, are to be understood as being texts but most of the time lacking a specific message. Especially tags used to be short combinations of letters and or digits working as signatures on their own which the graffiti writers spray all over the places they go to spread their name. Related to that, tags are viewed to be highly mobile media which the writers use to claim or reclaim public spaces by applying them. Some theories on popular culture view them to be kind of a political act, but that definitely doesn't account for all of them as it is also not possible to count them all to one specific culture because it's used as a medium in several different sub cultures," Arthur explained, drawing on his amount of theoretical knowledge about modern and popular art.

"So Art, what you're saying is that even though we know that these are tags it doesn't really help to find out who painted them?" Rick asked his first euphoric reaction quickly fading away.

"I wouldn't say so," Arthur hesitantly answered. "Tags are quite personal and tell a lot about their writer if you know what to look at. For instance, the use of paint and brushes is very special. This one probably also does other kind of paintings either as an artist or maybe also as a limer. The texture of the paint also shows that the person painting them is right handed and probably male." Rick nodded, trusting Art with his experience to make such a statement. He knew his friend had been giving art classes for decades now and seen many paintings also in his research.

"And then there are the eyes themselves. Even though they may not contain a specific kind of message due to their possible symbolism, they mean something to the writer or probably artist in this case. They're somehow relating their name to these eyes. Remember, they are a signature. Maybe the eyes can tell you something about his name or the place he lives in." Rick grimaced. Although it had sounded helpful at first, this kind of information only meant for him to do a huge amount of research on names and places somehow containing or relating to eyes or seeing something or not seeing something. That didn't really rule out much or even help him find a place to start from.

For some moments, silence settled over the office. Rick considered his options, even if it meant starting over again on the stolen piece, which at least provided them with the name of the artist and their background. Suddenly he was snapped out of his thought by a loud thud resounding from the desk, where the man sitting just across from him had hit the surface with his flat hand. "Of course, why didn't I think of it before?" he laughed, earning a quizzical look from the writer. "Meagan Carter has this grad student, I don't know her name, but she's working on street art for her thesis, and has been doing field research for a whole year now. Maybe she can tell you something about the writer. She's definitely spoken to lots of them, and has even started tagging herself as far as I know," Arthur stated, pointing at the tablet. "She'll be able to help you." Rick smiled. Maybe he didn't need to give up on the lead of the 'painted eyes' just yet.

It was a little after 4 PM when Rick made his way back to the car, satisfied with the progress he had made. Darlene Lee, the grad student Arthur had mentioned, and as luck would have it a fan of the Storm series, had initially voiced her concern about the anonymity of her informants. After making him promise to treat the information confidentially, she'd told him about a group of graffiti writers that the one using the eye tag most probably belonged to. Although she didn't know the guy herself, she'd provided Rick with information on the group, who apparently used to hang out in all the same places most of the time. It hadn't taken him long to find them, especially because of their obvious preference for bright artificial hair colors which Darlene had pointed out beforehand. Colors seemed to be their thing.

_A young woman in her early twenties with strands in different shades of violet and purple amongst her otherwise blonde hair was leaning against the wall right beside the black painted and poster covered window of a little shop for painting supplies that seemed to be closed even though it was the middle of the day on a Monday. Her left hand was combing mechanically through the short spiky hair with orange tips of a guy sitting right next to her feet on the floor chewing on something. Two other young men seemed to be engaged in a conversation while sipping from unmarked bottles, their voices falling silent as soon as Rick approached the group and reached earshot. He introduced himself as a writer and told them he wanted to write about tagging and that Darlene had recommended he'd go to them because of his special interest in painted instead of sprayed tags. Obviously the reference to the student was enough to convince them that he could be trusted._

_He started out with the usual unsuspecting questions about when they were created graffiti and tags, if they used to work together, how long they had known each other, and so on. By doing so, he found out that they preferred this kind of tagging because the paint was less easy to get off the wall, and because of the thickness they got by using the brush, it was also harder to be sprayed over by other taggers. They were certain of and proud that their tags were more durable than others._

"_I've seen some painted tags that depicted blindfolds with eyes or something. Do you know the guy they belong to?" Rick finally made it to what he was actually interested in. It was the guy with the orange spikes who nodded immediately._

"_Yeah, that's IC. He's the one that introduced us to painted graffiti in the first place. He's doing these huge wall paintings, ya know? All shiny." The others nodded their heads in agreement._

"_He keeps us supplied," Purple – the name the young woman had introduced herself with as opposed to the others who hadn't even offered an alias – added pointing to the window of the shop. "Wilson and Sons. His father's," she explained. "They've got the best stuff and ever since he took over running the business, it's even easier to get some of it on the side," she explained openly._

_Rick's gaze travelled to the shop. Not the slightest hint of light indicated it to be in business at all. "Why is it closed? Where's IC today?" he asked, but only got a couple of shrugs in return._

"_Sometimes he's here, sometimes he isn't. Who cares? We don't keep track on what he's up to," the spiky haired guy said._

"_You work together?" Rick wanted to know, and cautiously added a "sometimes" to the question._

"_Depends," Purple stated vaguely._

"_IC is kind of a loner," the spiky haired guy remarked, the others joining in nodding their heads. "Kinda brilliant, yeah. Even nice in times," he added, "but also a damn creepy guy. He likes sneaking up." He pretended to shiver, illustrating the feeling._

"_And then his occasional outbursts of totally unjustified anger most of the time, or sadness sometimes. Found him weeping in a corner one day just like a baby," one of the guys with bright white bleached hair chipped in only to be cut off by Purple again._

"_He's been better lately though," she insisted._

"_Yeah," spiky haired guy confirmed. "Even got that apartment. Don't know how he affords that one actually, since he doesn't really make any money. Had been living with his parents, spent his time on the streets though," his brows were knitted together as if he was considering the financial situation of his friend or colleague or whatever their relationship was for the first time._

"_Can you tell me where I'd find him?"Rick addressed the whole group now, hoping for a helpful answer._

"_Haven't seen him in days," the silent guy holding a bottle stated shaking his head while joining the conversation for the first time._

"_Maybe he's in the hospital visiting his old man," Purple spoke up. "Something with the liver, I guess."_

"_Or he's at his fancy new place nursing his constant hangover, probably inherited that one," the white bleached hair guy suggested laughingly as the others joined in. Rick wasn't quite sure, but it seemed there was a hint of envy in his remark._

_Rick nodded slowly. "And where would that apartment happen to be?" It was probably best if he went there looking for the guy – IC Wilson obviously – himself. The spiky haired guy finally told him an address in lower Manhattan. Interesting area. Rick raised an eyebrow and jotted it down quickly. He was willing to give it a try. If the apartment was a bust, he could always try at the hospital afterwards. The writer thanked all four of them for their cooperation, assuring them once more that he wouldn't tell their names, as if he knew them, when he wrote about the tags._

Rick was snapped from his thoughts and almost tripped when he spotted Beckett on the other side of the street. She looked different. She wore flats with her dark blue jeans, a tight brown leather jacket hugging her form. Her hair was gathered to a ponytail high on the back of her head it's end dangling with every step, some loose strands curling around her face. The casual look definitely made her appear younger and everything else but being a cop. A messenger bag was hanging on her left shoulder, probably containing not only the typical things women were carrying in their purses but also her shield and service piece. She turned her head as though she was looking for something.

Damn it, she must have figured it out too. It couldn't be a coincidence that she had come here as well. And suddenly she looked right into his direction. When she crossed the street after briefly checking the traffic, he was pretty sure that she was narrowing her eyes at him although her dark sunglasses shielded them mostly from his sight. Only the edges of her eyebrows could be seen which were, framed by some wrinkles, nearly melting together right above her nose. Rick decided to make the first move.

"Aw Beckett, nice to see you," he grinned at her.

"Castle!" How could one simple word like his name be painted that thick with annoyance? He decided to ignore it only shaking his head slightly, since he had finally reached his car. Had he been two minutes earlier they would have missed each other.

"You're quite far from home. Need a ride back?" He offered even though he knew, she most likely had her police issued car parked somewhere nearby and even if not she wouldn't agree to his suggestion. Her gaze travelled to the car door he was about to unlock. 'Does she really consider it?' he wondered surprised.

"Nah, I'm good," she said casually lifting her left shoulder to push up the bag which had been sliding down a little bit, grabbing its broad strap a little tighter. Her expression had turned completely neutral. "What are you doing here?" she added obviously being aware of the fact that running into him the second time this day wasn't by chance but had to be connected to the case.

"This and that but I'm done now," Rick answered nonchalantly. They both knew why the other was there. But that didn't mean they had to admit it.

She nodded at him already turning to the right. "Bye, Castle."

"Bye," he replied to her back and gazed at her as she walked away. When she was out of sight, he got into his car started the engine and pulled out into traffic. He would have been willing to share his information with her if she had asked for it but knowing that she still insisted on excluding him from her investigation he wouldn't need to. Beckett was a stubborn woman. At least that was something that hadn't changed.

* * *

**Author's note**: Next time we'll have Kate's POV and her angle on the investigation.

On a side note: Are there any European Castle Fans out there reading this story, who intend to come to the meeting in October? If you don't know what I'm talking about feel free, to PM me.


	17. Back on track?

**Author's note**: This time an earlier update because I'll be on vacation until end of August and don't know if I'll have access to Internet. Beside that I actually don't have anything to say but to thank all of you guys, who are still with me. And I especially want to thank my beta annem57 for bringing back order to my grammar.

**Disclaimer**: Still don't own "Castle".

* * *

_To papagorilla for inspiring me to find the solution_

**Chapter 17 – Back on track?  
**

_**Kate's POV (Part 1)  
**_

**Monday, May 31****st**** 2021**

When Kate turned away from Castle, her smile transformed into a thin line. So, they were following similar leads on the gallery break in and theft, then. She couldn't really claim to be surprised. Kate had always been one to try and think outside of the box. Maybe that had made her that successful on her job. She didn't only think and act by the book, but was open to different approaches. Castle surely never had been someone to give a damn about the conventional route that police procedure took, so it wasn't impossible that their differing lines of investigation would eventually cause their paths to cross.

Although Kate doubted that Castle had examined the smudges of paint the burglar had left behind when over painting the art pieces. He most likely didn't know the specific paint used in restoring old outdoor wall paintings was only kept in stock by three shops that specialized in painting and restoration supplies throughout New York City unless directly ordered. She figured he must have found this place some other way, and wondered what had let him there. Annoying fact was, though, he had come here as well.

What kept nagging at her was that he got here before her. His all too self-confident grin had conveyed the message that he was leading their race because he clearly seemed to view it that way. While she was investigating a case, Castle was playing a game of his own invention and with his own rules as usual. Kate resisted the urge to make herself aware of the current task by stomping more loudly, but instead kept her bouncing steps in order to stay in her role. She'd decided some kind of cover would most probably help her cause, instead of scaring people off by giving herself away as a cop. It was that kind of neighborhood where lips sealed themselves when a shield appeared. You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.

As she looked at the walls she was passing by on her way to the shop, she noticed different kinds of graffiti that were sprayed on walls, lamp posts and even garbage containers. Suddenly her gaze was caught by a different symbol, and she stopped midways. It wasn't its form that attracted her attention since it wasn't much more than a palm sized red sign depicting a 'T' mounted on an 'O', with its' vertical line crossing halfway through the other letter. But what made her stop was the structure it showed off. It differed from the usual thinly sprayed-on color by the rough texture of thickly applied paint that even had a silk-mat shimmer to it as it reflected the late afternoon sun rays. When she touched the surface she felt the fall and rise of the paint caused by a paint-brush, which the artist had obviously favored over a spray can. The tag instantly reminded her of the painted eyes at the gallery. Kate pulled a small plastic tube from her purse, scratching some of the color with the tip of her key off the wall and pushing the lid closed after collecting the probe. She'll send it to the lab to compare it with the paint from the crime scene. Kate was pretty sure they'd match.

After she turned another corner, Kate reached the address of 'Wilson and Sons', the second painting supplies store on her list. Unfortunately it seemed to be closed, but a group of three young men and a woman, probably barely legal age, seemed to have settled in nearby, a jacket was lying on the sidewalk one of the men sitting on it, a couple of empty unmarked bottles right behind him lined up by the wall, one bottle still half full raised to his lips while the purple haired woman at the same time was drinking from another bottle, a guy with a punkish hairstyle and orange colored hair tips had offered her. The others seemed engaged in a slow conversation, single words exchanging while staring at the street in front of them instead of each other. They seemed quite at home at this spot judging on yet another clear glass bottle standing on the ground which obviously served as an ash tray, ash and cig butts drowned in a few inches of water, although neither of them was smoking at the moment. When she included into her assessment the state of their clothing, covered in unspecific stains of different dark shades, and the way their jeans were ripped and holey, Kate was pretty sure the small group spent a lot of time out on the streets. Maybe they could tell her about the shop and its owner. She could always call the precinct to get his home address if they didn't tell her anything.

"Are you here often? Can you tell me when the shop's open again?" she addressed them directly while gesturing for the covered window of 'Wilson and Sons', earning a couple of shrugs in response. "Do you know where I can find the owner?" Kate tried again. The guy sitting on the floor, hair bleached to be nearly white, turned his head at her question and frowned.

"Who wants to know?" The one with the orange hair responded with a question. For a moment Kate considered showing her shield, but she knew even though they didn't look like criminals, they probably adhered to the punk part of the street scene, known to dislike authority in every respect. She'd only pull her cop card if absolutely necessary. They weren't even suspects at the moment. So she answered the question vaguely with "A customer."

"Wanna return something? I don't think they take returns," the guy laughed, his forearm getting squeezed by the younger woman – maybe his girlfriend?

"He's at Calvary. Won't return for some time," she answered, obviously ready to help. Kate slowly nodded storing away the information about the hospital known for hospice care for later use. "But if you need something you can turn to IC, he's been running the store for a while now," the other woman added, pushing a strand of purple hair back that had fallen into her line of sight.

"Who's IC?" Kate asked.

"What the hell is this, everybody looking for creepy guy?" the man on the floor asked. Ok, obviously Castle had talked to them before. Damn it. But maybe she could use it to her advantage. "Oh, that other someone's name didn't happen to be Rick?" Kate softened her voice a little.

"You know that guy?" the man with the orange hair questioned suspiciously.

'Improvise, Kate!' she encouraged herself. "Yeah, yeah. He's a friend of mine," she flipped a loose curly strand of hair as though it was a nervous and unconscious habit and added pouting a little, "I wanted to surprise him, he's so interested in all this stuff." Don't give too much information but let them be given to you.

They nodded. Good. "He's been asking all these questions," the other woman spoke again and slightly rolled her eyes facing Kate and giving her the unvoiced classic 'Men!'-message. Kate smiled slightly in return. "He wanted to know everything about the graffiti, tagging and IC, ya know? Said he'd like to write about it," the woman added openly, all the time being encouraged by Kate nodding but was harshly interrupted as the orange haired guy bumped her, obviously disliking that she was so talkative.

"Oh, then IC is a graffiti artist?" The other woman nodded at Kate's question and raising the right corner of her mouth stated. "Your boy seems to be quite fond of his eye-tags." The eyes. That's it. That's why Castle had come here as well. So this IC painted eye-tags and ran the store selling the special paint. It fitted together just perfectly. No the only thing she needed to do was get a hold of IC.

"Yeah, I know," Kate nodded. "He'd really love to meet him," she added maybe layering too thick but the other woman seemed to buy it so Kate continued, "Can you maybe tell me, where IC lives? Or his real name?" She turned and looked into all of their faces. If it wasn't the purple haired woman, maybe one of the men could tell her something, but it was the woman again who answered. "Ira C. Wilson. But don't know where he lives," she shrugged apologetic.

"Ok, then I guess, I have to come back another time when he's at the store," Kate answered waving with a hint of disappointment which earned her even a "sorry" from the other woman. She was a nice girl. Hopefully, she would be able to make her way off the streets soon. The men were already ignoring Kate, and what they'd obviously heard had put them off by being girl talk, when she bid her farewell and turned away.

Making her way back to the car, Kate took out her phone and dialed the precinct, letting the call get redirected to Delaney's desk. The detective didn't take long to answer.

"Nothing new on the stolen painting yet," he answered her question and explained: "Since the artist – Philip Darcy - is fairly new on the stage and there were other exhibits way more worth in the gallery, we still don't know why the burglar decided on taking this very painting. Maybe they just liked it and instead of selling it, wanted to hang it up in the dining room." The light statement, probably supposed to be a joke, may not have been so far off. 'Never prematurely rule out a possibility before you have definitive proof,' Kate reminded herself. Maybe they found out when she'd spoken to Ira Wilson.

"Can you please run a name for me? Ira C. Wilson. And bring him in for questioning. Apparently he's running the shop for his father and seems to have some experiences in street art as well. It's possible we already have our guy." If Ira Wilson wasn't able to present a valid alibi, they traced the paint from the crime scene back to the shop, and argued about his reputation as a graffiti artist, they stood a good chance of getting a search warrant.

"And I need you to prepare a warrant for the family business 'Wilson and Sons' as well as for the suspect's apartment," Kate requested and received Delaney's confirmation in response before they ended the phone call. At the moment, the case was looking pretty good. If they acted quickly, they may even recover the stolen painting as well. They only needed to be careful not to alert the younger Mr. Wilson in case they couldn't get enough to hold him. She didn't want to risk that he and or the stolen art piece disappeared.

Passing by the front desk at the 21st only twenty minutes later Kate greeted the officers on duty smiling when the vibrating of her phone beneath her right arm, where she held the messenger bag in place by pressing it to her side, alerted her to an incoming call, the caller being from the precinct.

"Davidson," she answered, recognizing the voice of Detective Delaney.

"Sir, I've found something on Wilson," he started out and added cautiously, "but you won't like it." Whatever it was, she needed to know. As she entered the elevator, she pressed the button to bring her straight to the floor where the robbery department was stationed. "I'm already on my way. You can fill me in, when I'm there." Kate wanted to look at the information in person, piecing it together with what she'd learned by now.

Walking up to Delaney's desk, Kate tossed him the sample of the paint she'd scrubbed off. "Send this to the lab. They should compare it to the samples of paint from the crime scene," she ordered, before asking: "So, what have you got on Wilson?"

"On entering his name – Ira Carl Wilson - the first thing apparent was that he's already deceased. There was a recent entry stating that he had been found dead in his apartment." He'd actually come up with a piece of information Kate had not expected.

"How recent?" she questioned. There was no stronger alibi than being dead. They'd be back to square one.

"It isn't even a full report but merely the record of an incoming call, received about an hour ago. CSU have been sent to the scene," was the answer. Not enough to definitely rule out Wilson as a suspect, because he could always have died after committing the break-in. They needed more information.

"He's been killed?" Kate wondered aloud due to the mention of CSU. It would be a good idea to take a look at the scene herself.

"Nope, looks like suicide. Medicals could only declare his death," Delaney replied, pointing out standard protocol when reacting to calls of that kind. Kate didn't buy it. Their best and only suspect killed himself? Dead robber, case closed? That was just too convenient, too easy. And they still had to find the paint and tools he'd used, and the stolen painting as well. She'd go there.

"Give me the address and I'll take a look at our suspect and his apartment myself," Kate asked of the detective. "In the meantime check out his phone records and financials. And take a look at Darcy as well. If he isn't really that well-known of an artist, and money isn't an issue, it might as well have been personal or he tried to pull a stunt himself. We need to cover all possibilities," she added. The gallery owner herself had already alibied out, although considering her wealth she may have hired someone for the break-in. But Kate didn't really consider her a suspect. Patricia O'Neil didn't have motive and despite her over-dramatic and exaggerated act, Kate had recognized the genuine shock that was hidden beneath the surface.

"Still interested in Wilson's rap sheet?" the younger cop cut into her thoughts offering the results of his previous search. Right, they needed his prior convictions and criminal history to make a case if he was their guy.

"Just mail me his file. I'll take a look at it later," Kate replied, already on her way out, waving her phone in the air indicating that she could read it anywhere.

Pulling up at the house where Ira Wilson had lived, Kate recognized some police vehicles and Castle's car as well. Kate climbed the stairs to the fifth floor after seeing a worn sign saying that the elevator was out of order. It had obviously been hanging there for quite some time, nobody willing or able to actually fix the elevator again, the tenants of the seven storey building therefore being forced to take the stairs instead.

Her chin raised, she didn't even bother to look at Castle who was arguing with a uniformed officer while she passed by flashing her badge, entering their suspect's studio apartment. 'Who's the first one to know now?' she thought, grinning slightly to herself. There were the advantages to being a cop over a civilian investigator. Suddenly, she realized to her displeasure that she had started to view solving this case as some kind of contest herself, beating Castle at his own game by finding the guys who did it. 'Very professional, Kate!' she thought sarcastically.

"Hey, what are you doing here, Captain?" Kate turned her head to the familiar voice of her friend Lanie, who was wearing pink gloves and her crime scene garment. "This is definitely not your jurisdiction here and no Captain's case either," the ME stated matter-of-factly.

"What happened?" Kate questioned instead of giving an answer, and turned her head around to get a first impression of the poky room that was supposed to be an apartment. She wasn't willing to argue with Lanie about protocol as long as she didn't know why Wilson's apartment was taped off. So she also generously overlooked her friend raising an eyebrow at her and looked instead left in the direction Lanie must have come from. After a short moment of neither of them giving in, the ME finally decided to share her information.

"Dead body, 27, male, Caucasian. Seems to be the tenant of this apartment Ira Carl Wilson." Kate nodded. Nothing new there. 'This can't be a coincidence,' she thought to herself while Lanie continued. "Two hours ago his mother came to bring clothes from the dry cleaner after work when she found him in the bath tub, both of his wrists slit. They also found a short note on the coffee table. Everything's pointing towards suicide but it doesn't quite fit. I'm going to know more once I have the chance to examine him back at the lab."

"Where's the mother now?" Kate considered asking her some questions about Ira Wilson.

"The woman was pretty shaken. No wonder at the horror of seeing her son bathing in blood," Lanie answered pointing behind herself to the direction of the bathroom. "After her statement had been collected, she left saying she needed to tell her husband herself."

"Well, well, look who's got the gift turning plain and boring burglary cases into homicides," Kate closed her eyes annoyed when she heard Castle's chuckling voice from behind. How did he manage to get past the tape? At least his tone was more teasing than mocking, so she was willing to let his comment pass.

"Castle, what are you doing here?" Kate questioned for the third time today as though she didn't know, as though she hadn't seen him when she walked into the apartment.

"Told 'em I had been waiting for you. Civilian consultant." She didn't need to look at him, hearing the grin clearly in his words. Obviously he was quite cocksure of himself.

"But you're not." Kate finally turned her head and managed to state calmly, suppressing the temptation to hiss the sentence at him. She did make a mental note though to ask for the officer's name that let Castle jump the police line.

"And you're not investigating this death either," he boldly replied on a low note. Unfortunately what he was saying was true since she didn't have jurisdiction over the case. If it turned out that Ira Wilson had been killed, the chances were the detectives working the case could claim the theft as well because of the connection to the victim. She preferred not to act on this legal precariousness at the moment, and decided to stare Castle down instead of gratifying him by quipping something in return.

Their exchange was interrupted by Lanie clearing her throat more loudly than necessary. Suddenly Kate was very aware of the quizzical looks the ME was shooting her. She had filled her in briefly on finding out about Alex being in fact Alexis Castle, and running into the writer the other day at the hospital. Surprisingly her friend had refrained from going all Spanish Inquisition on her but Kate was pretty sure she'd soon have to face a load of questions, at least if Lanie's finger pointing at her was anything to go by. Oh yeah, she's going to get grilled about it.

"Hey Lanie," Castle greeted as if there had never been a decade long hiatus in meeting each other at crime scenes. "What have we got? In the bathroom, right?" he asked, obviously ignoring whatever was going on between the women, and looking around before crossing the small space and heading off to the left for the bathroom to take a look at the body himself.

"Beckett?" one eyebrow questioningly raised, the ME addressed Kate, who rolled her eyes in return and shrugged. At that moment, she wished that some other ME had been assigned the case, even if it would have meant her being denied entrance and not finding out anything more about Ira Wilson. Kate was convinced that day couldn't get any worse.

"You're back working together?" Lanie questioned, her voice filled with a hint of concern but mostly showing bewilderment.

"No!" Kate exclaimed shaking her head vehemently. They were _so_ not working together. Kate let almost slip a laugh.

"So why is he…?" her friend motioned for the corner where Castle had disappeared only short before.

"Just. Don't. Ask. I'm here for the case, Lanie. Can we please discuss everything else another time?" Kate pressed three fingers onto her temple feeling some tension rising as though she was about to get a very bad headache.

"I'll hold you to that," the other woman agreed reluctantly, not without shooting her a pointed glare. She was serious.

"I'm just going to take a look at the apartment," Kate was putting on a pair of blue gloves herself. "Will you keep me in the loop about the deceased?" She had a feeling there was more to this burglary and the presumed suicide of their suspect and she needed to find out, preferably before Castle did.

"Okay girl, but you owe me." They nodded at each other, Kate already turning her head to take a good look at the main room so as not to lose any more time. There wasn't very much to see actually. The room consisted of a davenport with a small coffee table right in front of it, which judging by the dirty dishes and the empty glass obviously served as 'dining table' as well; a closet and a bookshelf with believe it or not six books in it and a dying cactus. Except for the entrance, there were only two other doorways, one on the left, probably leading to the bathroom, the only facilities not in plain sight, and a doorless threshold to the kitchen alcove, where the stove and a rusty fridge could easily be spotted from the spot where Kate was standing.

As far as Kate could see, Wilson didn't own any electronic equipment like a TV set or a computer; there wasn't even a microwave in the kitchen as Kate could tell after taking a look around in there. Back in the main room, she noticed some clothing messily piled up on the sofa's arm as well as its back rest, leaving little room for one or two people to sit down on it. Besides the used dishes, there was also an ash tray half filled with cigarette stubs and she was also able to spot a package of tobacco, a lighter and a hand rolled cigarette as well as some worn magazines about tattoo art. 'Wait a minute!' Kate alerted herself of her observations. Why were there some cigarette stubs with orange filters in the ash tray when Wilson obviously preferred to roll his cigs himself? Maybe he had been given them by someone. Or another person had consumed them. And why hadn't he smoked his last cigarette before he killed himself? Now she believed even less in this whole suicide story.

"Lanie?" Kate called the ME while collecting the cigarette, or whatever it was the tobacco mix contained, in an evidence bag. "Could you squeeze in a DNA test on the stubs of filter cigarettes from the ash tray?" she asked her friend after she'd managed to get her attention. Kate wondered why techs had obviously collected the suicide note, which Lanie had described to her before, but left the cigarettes?

Her next target was the closet. Pulling the doors open, it revealed a very small collection of casual clothes, and a single dress shirt; nothing overly spectacular or out of the ordinary. When Kate pulled out the first drawer she found some under garments as well as a comforter and a pillow. The second drawer was filled with papers, a passport and what obviously were his most important documents, a box with photos and finally a sketchbook and some pencils and brushes. She'd already wondered why there wasn't anything to draw or paint in the studio when Wilson obviously must have been a rather devoted artist, at least in graffiti. It didn't escape her that there was not a single kind of paint to be found all throughout the apartment.

At last Kate made her way to the bathroom to take a close look at Ira Wilson, their suspect slash victim, herself. When she left the apartment only fifteen minutes later, after saying good bye to Lanie and promising her to call, she found Castle expectantly waiting at the end of the hallway.

"Look, Beckett, we can keep that up throughout the whole case. Me finding and checking out a new lead and you trailing in just little behind, embarrassing yourself by asking the same questions I have already asked before." She wanted to wipe that smug grin from his face while he leant against the wall next to the stairs, arms crossed in front of his chest. Even though he yet again had put on that teasing tone, it was the content that made her inwardly growl.

'He's only provoking you,' Kate reminded herself silently starting to count determined to stay professional this time. '… three, four, five' The only thing she forced herself not to spit out but say on a calm note instead was his name. "Castle!"

It was a warning which he answered with a stretched "ooooor" continuing on unintimidated, still smiling with "We can join our efforts, share what we have by now and solve this thing together," yet again suggesting collaborating.

Kate couldn't help but stare at the persistent man standing right before her, still trying to convince her even though she'd made her point clearly and multiple times. She wondered why he hadn't pulled his strings if he so desperately was seeking cooperation with the NYPD. She didn't doubt that he had some influential connections which could him easily get on the case. Maybe she should be grateful he didn't just force himself in. On the other hand, he was already everywhere she went or just a little behind. What big of a difference would it make?

Obviously he wasn't patient enough to wait for the response she didn't know to decide on. "But you still don't see any favors in working together, huh? Then I've got one last question for you, Beckett." She wasn't sure why she did it, but she just nodded encouraging him to continue. This was probably the moment he'd finally pull out his ace by pointing out his wide range of important friends and fans at City hall reminding her who provided her with her job.

"Did you see the victim?" Castle instead asked, catching her by surprise.

"Sure, did I see Mr. Wilson," she recovered quickly, "… but we don't even know for sure yet that he is a victim. I mean after all there is the letter, no clear evidence that anybody else had been there, the wounds matching a suicide…" she listed not giving away that she was pretty sure their suspect hadn't killed himself.

"No, what I meant was, if you really did take a close look at him."

"Just spit it out, Castle. What great piece of an observation do you think have I missed?" she rolled her eyes annoyed being on the verge of just turning around to walk off, again.

"The guy cut himself," Castle blurted as if he was announcing some great big secret.

"Tell me something new," Kate quipped sarcastically.

"On his chin," the writers face was painted with a broad self-confident grin.

"What?" What was he talking about? She tried to recall the image of Ira Wilson in his bath tub.

"There were small cuts on his chin. He'd been shaving and obviously and was obviously agitated. Considering the content of his closet he was shaving regularly. This time he cut himself and even rubbed alum on it to stop the bleeding. The block's still lying on the vanity."

"He was nervous because he wanted to impress someone," Kate mused.

"And then decided to use the razor blades to off himself?" Castle looked at her skeptically. Kate frowned. He was right. That wasn't likely at all. Why should he kill himself? The letter wasn't very helpful indeed, could have been written from anybody actually as long as they had no confirmation about the handwriting. That raised again the question: who would have been interested in killing Wilson?

"So no suicide then," she slowly nodded agreeing. Castle had found another indication to confirm her prior assessment. "But what or who was he shaving for?" And in which way was this connected to the burglary, the stolen pictures and his eyes-tag? Yeah, this case was definitely not boring. Kate sighed in defeat as she made up her mind. She was pretty sure she'd regret this.

"Job interview? Secret girlfriend maybe?" the writer offered, his grin changing to a thoughtful expression when he came up with serious suggestions. "Or maybe he's a spy and preparing for some undercover mission," he added, a spark of mischievousness twinkling in his eyes. Kate sucked in her cheeks, biting their insides to hold back the small smile that her lips threatened to break in. She slightly shook her head. There was no way she'd encourage him; at least not too much. It would only go straight to his head.

Kate kept watching him for a moment while her neck picked up the vertical motion again before she spoke up, deliberately painting her voice with a soft sigh: "Ok Castle, fine. I will let you join me on this one case. Only as long as you promise to do what I say and to not do any investigating on your own. If you find something, if you know something, you come straight to me. Do I make myself clear?" Kate narrowed her eyes at him while pointing her finger when he nodded in response.

"You do. And I will. You won't regret it," he promised, beaming excitedly. And he was wrong. She already did. But she successfully abstained from rolling her eyes, not willing to strip it from its meaning by constantly repeating the sign of resentment and annoyance. She knew she'd need it often enough when she pulled this through.

"So, where do we go now? The guy won't be able to tell us anything anymore," Castle said as he pointed behind them, a movement Kate was able to spot out of the corner of her eyes although she didn't pay much attention to it as she made her way down the stairs, the writer right beside her.

* * *

**Author's note**: So, there we are… they're working together again. Thoughts?


	18. Couples

**Author's note**: Here goes part 2. Be aware, there's lots of dialogue.

**Disclaimer**: I definitely do not own 'Castle' or any of the characters but even if I'm only playing with them I hope I do them justice.

* * *

**Chapter 18 – Couples**

_**Kate's POV (Part 2)**_

**Monday, May 31****st**** 2021**

_Previously:_

_"So, where do we go now? The guy won't be able to tell us anything anymore," Castle said as he pointed behind them, a movement Kate was able to spot out of the corner of her eyes although she didn't pay much attention to it as she made her way down the stairs, the writer right beside her._

* * *

"To Calvary hospital," Kate stated, deliberately not going into detail. She intended to find out what Castle had learnt in investigating on his own. It was probably best if they asked the parents about their son's recent activities. Considering the medical state his father was in, maybe starting out with Ira Wilson's mother would be better, also as she was the one who'd found him. Maybe she knew what or who he had been preparing for, if he had a girlfriend or what he had been up to.

"Talking to the father," Castle's response was a statement and not a question.

"To his parents," Kate corrected but nodded as she stepped down, finally reaching the first floor.

"Your car or mine?" Castle surprisingly addressed a very practical topic, which Kate actually had already decided on. He'd probably tell her about his theories on the ride, but she also wanted to take a look at the file Delaney had sent her before she talked to the parents. So her answer was definite.

"Both," she said, her tone clearly conveying that it wasn't anything she was willing to discuss. She caught a glimpse of disappointment in his look, but it was much easier this way than to have to play car shuffle later. Castle obviously wanted to say something in response but then seemed to change his mind, as he sealed his lips again and simply nodded instead. Good. He seemed to be ready to follow her directions. That was good, wasn't it? There was no reason to be disappointed about not having to go through all the arguments with him, even though she already had them lined up perfectly in her head.

"Meet you there. You know the way?" Kate asked.

"Sure. See you there," the short response came back before they parted, both of them heading for their respective cars.

When Kate had shut the door on the driver side she pulled out her phone, scrolling through the cliff notes on Ira Carl Wilson. He obviously had no siblings but only his parents Dorothea and Ira B. Wilson as next of a kin. He'd barely graduated from high school and then dropped out of college after less than a year, coincident with some minor charges that had been dropped shortly after. All in all, the report didn't contain anything that would suggest that he would break into a gallery and steal a painting. There was only a vast list of complaints about loitering, as well as one charge of damaging public property, obviously when he'd been caught literally red-handed while painting graffiti on some pillar, adding obstructing a police officer to it, which had made him doing some time. Besides that, he'd spent nights in different drunk tanks throughout the city. Nothing really big, and especially no theft on the list. But maybe he'd atypically ascended to burglary though, getting himself killed on the way. The information didn't really help anything. Kate dropped the phone back into the bag again, flipping it closed and tossing it at the passenger seat. She really hoped his parents were able to give them something new, a piece of helpful information fitting into the puzzle, some water to prevent their lead from running dry.

The ride to the hospital didn't take too long, rush hour traffic being light for a change, and she quickly found a free spot on the parking lot at Calvary. When Kate entered the main hall to look for someone to ask about Mr. Wilson's room, she found Castle already waiting. He was standing in front of some kind of memory wall that consisted of a bronze sculpture at the left upper corner, depicting a patient surrounded by a doctor and two nurses, and the rest of the wall covered in a great number of different sized stone plates engraved with various names. Kate couldn't help but smile at the serious and thoughtful expression with which Castle obviously was reading some of the inscriptions before he noticed her presence.

"Beckett." It was more of a statement than a greeting. And she was tempted to roll her eyes at his persistent use of her maiden name. She'd tell him to call her Captain or Davidson or Kate. 'No, not Kate, preferably Davidson. Well, later anyway,' she told herself, postponing the issue. At first they had to talk to the parents of a young man, possibly a burglar, who had possibly killed himself but had more likely been murdered. She smirked at the prospect of this conversation and turned her head looking for a member of the staff.

"Got that covered already: fourth floor, room 409," Castle waved cutting in her thoughts and motioning for the elevators on the other end of the hall. "I was just waiting for you," he added, stating the obvious.

It wasn't the first time Kate had seen the inside of this hospital, but yet again she noticed the warm atmosphere that contrasted Calvary to other hospitals, doing their motto justice to be the place where life continues despite the patient's final state in terminal illnesses. Just because one knew they're going to die didn't mean they couldn't squeeze the very essence out of their last days.

A nurse had on sight of Kate's badge agreed to let them ask at the door themselves, a woman in her late fifties – probably Dorothea Wilson – opening for them. Her eyes were rimmed and puffy and it was obvious she'd been crying even though her lips showed a friendly smile.

"Captain Davidson, NYPD," Kate showed her shield again and added with a small tilt of her head motioning into the general direction of her companion, who was standing right behind her left shoulder, "This is Richard Castle. We're sorry to disturb you, Mrs. Wilson, but may we ask you some questions?" In response Mrs. Wilson opened the door fully with a comment as friendly as her smile "Certainly, please come in." and let them pass through.

The quite homely setting, for a hospital, they had been welcomed with in the corridors seemed to increase when they entered Mr. Wilson's room. The easy to clean linoleum tiles were partly covered with a Persian carpet, which probably had seen better days, but had obviously been brought along by the resident as a reminder of home. Maybe the family was also allowed to decorate the walls or it was just a coincidence but the carpets shades of red, beige and black were picked up by the beige walls and the picture of a wide landscape in a bordeaux red wooden frame. Her husband, Ira Wilson, was sitting on a hospital bed standing head-end at the left wall, a colorful crazy quilt draped over his legs, some tubes connected to one of his arms, the thin hair on his head indicating they'd given up on chemo some time ago and the dim spark in his eyes as well as his quite lively antics contradicting his pale and weak appearance.

"We've got guests, Ira. It's the police," Dorothea Wilson introduced them to her husband.

"Is this about junior?" the man in front of them asked a sad tune to his voice and a shadow crossing his face.

While Kate nodded as she prepared to start the conversation, Castle already jumped in. "We're sorry for your loss, Mr. and Mrs. Wilson," he expressed their honest compassion for the elderly couple.

The short pause afterwards was filled with a sad nod and followed by the grateful words Dorothea Wilson spoke, her hands had already found her husband's right one clasping it tightly the strength either of them drew from the connection visible, "Thank you," before she added on a lower note "Parents shouldn't have to outlive their children." A single tear rolled down her cheek, and the man in the bed reached his left arm out to wipe it away. Nothing was truer than that statement, even though Kate could tell from her own experience that it wasn't any easier to loose a parent at young age.

"I'm sorry about my wife," Mr. Wilson obviously felt the need to apologize. "We just can't believe it. Why did he do that? He'd seemed to be much better lately."

"What do you mean?" Kate asked curious about what that statement was about.

"He'd been doing better. At first he'd not taken it very well," Dorothea Wilson said, exchanging a look with her husband. "You have to know Ira suffers, I mean, suffered -" a sob breaking free as she corrected herself, "He suffered from bi-polar disorder but hadn't had an episode in ages. He's really doing fine. I'd never, I'd never…" her voice trailed off incapable of talking about her son killing himself.

"Do you think he may have had an episode?" Castle obviously wanted to verify the possibility of the graffiti artist committing suicide after all. If he was suffering from a major depressive episode there was still a chance all their evidence led the wrong direction, and he may have really spontaneously ended his life, despite any plans he'd made before. Kate watched the couple intently to get their reaction, but the unwavering answer came back immediately anyway.

"No, not really," Mrs. Wilson stated more sure than she'd appeared before. Neither Castle nor Kate spoke, both of them waiting for further explanation. The older woman looked at Castle. "He'd visited us all yesterday afternoon. Over the years, we've learned to tell when he was about to have one, you know? Yesterday he was a little anxious maybe, but it wasn't anything like a usual episode, and definitely not out of the ordinary." She seemed to recall the whole visit in her head as she looked into the middle distance before focusing on the writer again. "He was good, managed to even lift the mood even with some jokes. We made dinner plans for Friday and I told him I'd bring his clothes along. Everything was fine when he left. I don't think he had an episode. Charly regularly took his medication to prevent it from happening."

"You know what the B means?" Mr. Wilson questioned taking over and continued immediately not expecting an answer. "It stands for Bertram. Always hated my middle name, but it was kind of a tradition. 'Wilson and Sons'. That's us. My father was Ira Arthur Wilson and junior supposed to be the next in line. We'd almost given up hope and when we got the diagnosis – pancreatic cancer already metastasized – I was sure the tradition would die with me but then something changed. He changed. And I'd hoped again," his explanation turning into a coughing fit at the end of the last sentence. Castle immediately reached out to the nightstand, picking up the glass of water and handing it to the other man, who slowly took one sip, then another as he grimaced in pain.

While Kate watched Castle inching closer to Mr. Wilson, trying to look at the device he used to control his medication, Mrs. Wilson had regained some control and continued instead of her husband. "For years, most of the time he wouldn't come home in the evening regularly, living more on the streets than anywhere else. We were worried but he wouldn't let us talk sense into him. And then everything got better. Charly took care of the store when Ira wasn't able to do it anymore. He'd even gotten an apartment and was standing on his own feet. I guess he realized with his father being ill it was time to finally grow up and -"

"Nonsense!" she was cut off by her husband exclaiming surprisingly loudly, for the small framed man, "It was about a girl. It always is." Even she seemed to be surprised by his statement.

"So he had a girlfriend then?" Castle questioned.

"I suppose," Mr. Wilson confirmed, "although I don't know for sure. He'd once mentioned that there was someone special but wouldn't go into depth. You don't talk to your old man about this kind of thing."

"He'd never mentioned anything to me," Mrs. Wilson wasn't only surprised but sounded a little hurt as well, drawing the attention of her husband to her, who patted her arm, giving her comfort as she complained.

"The girl must have had been a pretty good influence on him though. He'd even considered going back to college," he continued, the hope that had been increased by his son's plans evident in his voice.

"Do you know her name?" Kate asked after exchanging a meaningful look with Castle. Wilson had a girlfriend. She'd be the next person to talk to.

Unfortunately Wilson senior shook his head and answered "No, sorry." And then as if it just came to his mind added "You need to find her and tell her what had happened."

"Do you have _any_ idea who it could be?" Kate asked again.

"I don't think we ever got to know her," Mr. Wilson stated, "We don't really travel in that kind of circle. By the way he acted and how he talked about her, I do believe she came from money. Old money." Kate immediately stored away that important piece of information. A girlfriend, especially a wealthy one, would most probably explain Ira Wilson's sudden change in lifestyle and his decision for more responsibility. Maybe the woman had also some part in paying for his apartment, which he'd hardly be able to afford from the money his family made with their business. It didn't look as though there was anyone else but Ira living at the tiny studio but maybe, if they were lucky, they could find something on the lease or the payments to his landlord. But it sure as hell wouldn't explain the break-in and theft expect if it was part of an opportunity to make some extra money.

While Kate planned their next moves, Castle had pulled a chair closer to the bed, taking a seat next to Mr. Wilson. "Is this a regular App?" he asked, completely off topic as he gestured to the device the other man had dropped on the bed at his side again.

"Yeah, it is actually, why put up with hospital stuff if you can have full control on your own?" he replied, which fueled the writer's interest. "Where did you get that and what does it do?" Castle asked, his gaze glued to the tiny display as though it was some kind of new toy a kid spotted through a shop window.

While the two men were engaged in a conversation about various kinds of applications for phones and tablets, Kate decided to take the opportunity to address Mrs. Wilson. "Can I talk to you in private for a moment?" she touched her forearm to get her attention. The woman looked at her hesitantly. She'd just lost her son; no wonder she didn't want to leave her husband. But Kate was sure the other woman would rather spare him the conversation they needed to have.

"I'm sure the men will have something to talk about," Kate added, looking in Castle's direction. He'd pulled out his tablet, pointing out the pros of some app. Mrs. Wilson's gaze followed hers, and she smiled weakly as she nodded her OK.

"We'll be back in a minute," she explained to her husband, making clear to all of them that she didn't intent to leave him for long. Castle turned and looked at Kate, his brows furrowed questioning. She doubted for a little moment he would understand the message of her nod, but only until he spoke up.

"Yeah, let the girls leave for a minute, they don't really understand it anyway, do they?" he smiled up at Ira Wilson, receiving a mischievous grin from the figure in response as the man waved at his wife "Take your time, Dori." Having gotten their 'permission' Kate followed Mrs. Wilson when she stepped out of the room, closing the door firmly behind them.

"You didn't know about a girlfriend?" Kate started out.

"No," the woman answered, "but Charly wasn't very open about his friends anyway, you know? He knew that we didn't like the kind of people he used to associate with and whatever he got into with them, so he just stopped talking to us."

"But that changed?" Kate asked again to be sure the woman had not lied in front of her dying husband.

"Yes it did," she confirmed though.

"I know it is difficult for you, but I have to tell you that your son may not have killed himself. There are some pieces of evidence that don't quite add up. It's possible that he was murdered," Kate explained.

"But the cops said… and then there was his letter… and… who would…?" the other woman obviously was for a loss of words, taking in yet another bit of bad news.

"I'm sorry," Kate could tell that this must have been the worst day in the life of Dorothea Wilson, obviously even worse than finding out about her husband being terminally ill: Mrs. Wilson at least had time to prepare and say good bye. Kate gave her a moment to catch her footing again before she addressed her once more.

"There may also be a break-in into a gallery and the theft of an art piece connected to it. Do you know anything that might help us find out what your son was involved in? Anybody who may have been interested in him being dead?"

"Aside from his street buddies I don't know anybody, no. And I doubt anybody from them would kill him, too much effort. They're more of the lazy kind of people and not interested in anything. And art theft? I don't know. What has my boy gotten himself into?" she'd murmured the last part more to herself, but looked at Kate wide eyed.

"We're going to find out, Mrs. Wilson," Kate stated reassuringly. "Thanks for your help. If you should remember anything, please don't hesitate to call," she handed the other woman her card, pointing out her cell phone number and that she could be reached at any time.

"Don't you want to come back in?" Mrs. Wilson invited politely, but Kate shook her head. She didn't want to disturb them any longer. "Please just tell my colleague that we have to go," she asked the other woman. It troubled her to call Castle her 'colleague', but it was better than other titles like 'consultant', which would clearly have made a wrong impression, or 'partner', possibly leading to even more wrong conclusions.

When Mrs. Wilson entered the room again and Kate turned around, she spotted a quite familiar face in the corridor. It was a face she'd for some time woken up to every day in the past. Josh, her former husband, was obviously talking to a nurse. Of course he had to turn up there when she went to a hospital. Kate hadn't known that he was working at Calvary, but that shouldn't have surprised her. She'd heard about him finally settling down, and being about to start a family with his second wife. Working at Calvary matched perfectly his constant need to help others and make a difference, while dealing with the restrictions of having to stay in town and work sensible hours to care for a family. Josh and she had actually not been that different when it came to their careers, apart from him working in medicine and her in law enforcement. They were both devoted to their jobs in a similar way.

"Hey, Josh," Kate decided to take the first step, when the nurse had left.

"Katie!" Josh exclaimed in surprise, returning her smile. "Good to see you," he added. "What're you doing here?" His face fell a little, his expression filling up with compassion as obviously the thought hit him, that she may be visiting someone. For a moment, she shivered at the painful thought of the possibility of it being her father instead of Mr. Wilson that lay in that bed. She quickly blinked the images away that threatened to flood her mind.

"Just an investigation," she explained mostly to Josh but partly also to herself. Her dad was okay. He had still plenty of years to live. Gathering herself together, she nearly missed the door opening right behind her.

"Beckett?" Castle questioned, nearly bumping into her as he left the hospital room as well.

"Oh, you eventually changed your name?" Of course Josh had noticed the way Castle used to address her.

"No, not really. He just keeps calling me that," Kate sighed, and recalling her manners, she introduced the men to each other, ignoring the grin spreading over the writer's face when she used the term 'consultant' and managed to keep every hint of annoyance out of her tone.

"Richard Castle? Like in the novelist?" Josh obviously recognized him. He'd given her his book, Kate remembered, furrowing her brows a little when she wondered why he didn't recognize him earlier even though he'd gotten it signed for her.

"Nice to meet you," Josh took the hand, the other man had offered, before turning to Kate again. "Look, I don't really have much time to talk and have got to get back to work, but maybe we can meet for coffee some other day. And Kate, you know that I hadn't minded if you did, don't you?" he added the last one with a soft smile. She nodded to answer his question, being well aware of the fact that he was referring to her name. He'd told her it was her decision to make. She was glad that they'd managed to settle their divorce amicably, parting without holding grudges against each other, once they'd finally moved past hurt and disappointment.

"Coffee would be nice, Josh. Until then," Kate greeted when he had bid his fairwell and strode down the corridor.

"Your husband?" Castle questioned when Josh was gone again.

"Ex-husband," she corrected patiently as she headed for the elevator, Castle trailing behind.

"What happened?" Obviously, Castle was out for a story. He wouldn't get it.

"I don't think that's any of your business, Castle," Kate retorted.

"_Where have you been?" It wasn't the reception Kate had been expecting when she finally closed the apartment door on the worst day she'd experienced in a year. She shrugged off the tight leather jacket to hang it in the closet, getting instantly punished for the thoughtless movement by a piercing pain shooting through her wrists and shoulder. The medication must have worn off. 'I've been to hell and back,' Kate bit back the remark, since she wasn't eager to admit to Josh that she was almost thrown off a rooftop today because of her pursuit of her mother's murder case. He wouldn't be pleased to find out that this time it was only split seconds that separated him from the possibility that Kate may have never come back to him. When she looked up, she spotted anger showing on her husband's face anyway and only let out a tired "Hi Josh."_

"_I've been waiting for hours," he informed her, gesturing vaguely at the apartment behind him, being oblivious to her inner turmoil._

"_Sorry," she replied weakly, not knowing what else to say, and made her way to the living room fully intending to drop onto the couch, maybe snuggle up to Josh and close her eyes to quite the nagging knowledge that despite all the effort she'd put in, even going behind the back of her direct superior, Maddox had gotten away. That's when she spotted the pair of dishes laid out on the dinner table that was adorned with the pearly shimmering silken table cloth they kept for special occasions, accompanied by the silver chandelier which had sad remnants of burnt down candles spiking out of the holder._

"_You don't even know what today is, do you?" Josh's low voice accused her from behind. Not answering was for him answer enough though._

"_After we hadn't been able to spend our first Valentine as husband and wife together I wanted to make this day special. I even changed shifts to surprise you with your favorite dinner. Only you didn't show," he uttered the last part, disappointment dripping off his tongue. "You don't even remember our anniversary. It's been two years since we started dating. We celebrated last year at the cabin?" he supplied before adding "But now it's always only about your work, isn't it? And I'd hoped you'd change. You'd been different and I'd hoped it would last. We rarely see each other because of work."_

"_Yeah, I'll tell New York's killers to wait for some childish anniversary to pass before they continue murdering next time," Kate mocked, getting even angrier at Josh who was shaking his head. "I'm a cop, Josh. I solve murders. You knew that when you proposed so don't pretend it's a huge surprise. Besides you're not doing any better. Which husband leaves his wife for a more than a month on a 'Doctors without Borders' mission shortly after their wedding? I understood that because you're a devoted doctor. It's okay with me, but it isn't different with my job. It's what the job takes and my work is as important to me as is yours to you, always was and always will be."_

"_More important than me? Than us, is it? You don't need to answer that one. The only thing more important than your work is your mother's case I guess," he must have noticed the pang of guilt hitting her because his eyes grew wide. "Your mother's case? Was today again about your mother's murder?" he questioned and nodded, giving the confirmation himself. "I don't know how much I can take of this anymore," Josh stated and sighed brushing his hand absentmindedly through his hair._

"_What do you expect me to do? It's my mother, I can't let her down," her voice grew louder._

"_There's nobody you could let down. She's long been dead, Katie, accept that. She's gone for good. You can't hide in her death forever, getting yourself killed on the way. Let it go, Katie, in favor of our life together," he demanded, but hit a brick wall with his plea._

"_Never. I'll never let it go. Not before I bring her justice," Kate shouted, pulling out all the anger of the past day, that was welling inside, about what had felt like defeat when she had heard the voice of the sniper fading away, struggling not to lose her grip. She didn't know how they got there, but somehow she'd managed to top her miserable day yet again with a yelling match with her husband._

"_It's getting you killed! Just think about last year."_

"_You don't have to remind me, my skin is permanently signed by the scar that bullet left behind, Josh, but guess what, I made it. I'm still here," she stated, the sudden calmness of her voice should have alerted him._

"_You're not invincible. And I'm not willing to find you yet another time on my table to save your life only because of your reckless acts. I'm trying, Katie. I'm really trying here, but what do you give me in return? Maybe your mother didn't only take your ability to open up with her, but they buried the one to let love in six feet under as well," Josh continued instead of backing away. Kate gulped the hurt down that was tugging at her heart because of her husband's statement. She straightened her shirt and herself within one motion and kept glaring at him._

"_But that's who I am. That's the way I was when we got to know each other. I won't change, Josh. Take it or leave it," she replied, calmly turning and walking off to the bedroom where she resisted the urge to slam the door shut._

When they stood side by side in the elevator car Kate noticed that Castle had been watching her all the time. "Josh…," she started, "Me and Josh, it just didn't work out," she shrugged lightly but wasn't willing to go into the topic any deeper.

"I'm sorry." Castle replied, compassion shining in his eyes. She'd expected him to start digging, but obviously he didn't intend to. She wondered why, but then she realized that he was divorced himself. After all, that was an experience they shared. Kate smiled.

"It's okay. It was a long time ago." She stepped out of the elevator as soon as they arrived at the entrance hall again, but this time the silence settling in was quite comfortable. A quick glance at the watch on her wrist told her that it was almost 7 PM. They should call it a night. There wouldn't be much progress to be made in the next hours.

While Kate headed for her car, Castle was hot on her heels. "So, we were right about the girlfriend then," he finally spoke up, breaking the silence. "Maybe it's Purple," he stated.

"Purple?" Kate looked at him doubtfully.

"The woman from the store. Don't pretend you didn't talk to the guys there. Maybe the woman was his girlfriend?" Castle repeated the suggestion but Kate only shook her head. She'd seen the woman, and judging on her posture and demeanor she's definitely with the guy with the orange hair if she was with any of them. She didn't really fit the image of coming from money either.

"No, she's got a different guy," Kate was sure.

"Maybe they'd something on the side. Jealousy is a classical motive. Maybe the other guy found out and got rid of Ira," Castle suggested, making her consider it for a moment. Kate's instinct told her that the young woman was way too romantic and naïve to cheat on her boyfriend and not let it show in any way. They wouldn't have been so close if that had been the case.

"Possible," Kate agreed not to rule it out completely though, "but hopefully the DNA test on the cigarettes from the apartment will tell us more about any mysterious guests at young Wilson's apartment. I'd suggest we wait for the results tomorrow and call it a night," she had already unlocked her car as she said that, being watched by Castle all the while. His hands in his pockets, leaning on the side of the car, he obviously considered her statement which despite the words she'd used hadn't really been a suggestion.

"Ok," he nodded, still following her orders as she'd demanded. Yet another moment of silence, this time the awkward kind, followed the single syllable, since he didn't move. Kate opened the driver's door of the car. Castle seemed to wait for something.

"See you tomorrow then?" he asked. He sounded as though he doubted their collaboration would continue the next day, as though she was bound to change her mind overnight. Maybe she would, but she'd already agreed to it and she'd go through with it now. So Kate slowly nodded.

"I've got to go in to the precinct though. Come by at 10 AM." By then, Kate hoped to be done with the guys from Chicago, who'd come in at half past 7 when the early shift started. It should be enough time. And maybe the first results from the crime scene would be ready as well.

"Until tomorrow, Beckett!" Castle turned away to get to his own car. 'I really have to end this whole beckett-ing tomorrow,' Kate made a mental note when she slipped into the driver seat to make her way home.

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**Author's note:** As you can see I do not hate Josh but I do think their marriage didn't really stand a chance. I think they deserved to part on good terms though. I tried to work in events into Kate's life that may have also happened in a slightly different way even when Castle wasn't there. Maybe we'll get to see some more glimpses of it later on. Let me know what you think.


	19. This is it

**Author's note**: I'm sorry for failing in updating in time. Unfortunately I have to warn you that I don't know how much spare time I'll be able to gather together to write for the rest of September since I'm going on some field trips doing research. Maybe updates will be irregular for a bit, but I'll promise to stick with this story. At least one chapter is prepared already. We have still a lot of things to deal with.

**Disclaimer**: I definitely do not own "Castle" but only the additional characters of my own invention here as well as this little plot-line I use to play "Castle" with.

* * *

_To APseudonimo_

**Chapter 19 – This is it**

_**Castle's POV**_

**Monday, May 31****st**** 2021**

Rick had almost reached the door when he suddenly hesitated, but he'd already thought it all through. He had called to tell her he'd be coming over, asking if she was ok with it. Of course she was. He would fill her in on how the investigation was going. 'And that you're cooperating with Beckett on it,' a small voice in the back of his head suggested. Or probably not, he thought as he silenced the inner voice and quickly shook the idea out of his mind, remembering the awkward atmosphere around them only a couple of hours ago. He wasn't any more willing to talk about the partnership that he and Beckett had back then than he was in the morning. He came here for Irene, and technically for her friend Pat as well, but definitely not for digging out old stories. Rick went up the last steps to the apartment, raised his hand, and pushed on the doorbell right beside the cool metal door. He heard the sound echoing through the apartment, followed by the sound of footsteps approaching the door.

Irene looked perfect as always: the dark green dress clinging to her slender form showed off just enough of her legs, her blonde hair lying in waves on her shoulders, and her face adorned with a bright smile, lipstick obviously freshly applied shortly before his arrival.

"Hi Rick," she leant up and gave him a peck on his lips, leaving some of said lipstick behind, after swinging the door open.

"I've brought a gift along to make up for earlier," Rick showed her the bottle of 2010 Chablis Les Clos Raveneau, which she took from his hands, careful not to let it slip due to the little pearls of condensing water that had appeared since he had taken it from the cooler, covering the whole glass surface by now.

"You didn't have to, Rick," she answered, smiling, and he followed her as she carried the wine to the kitchen. Personally, he preferred red wines: the rich taste of an almost black Italian Chianti, or the hint of cassis in his favorite Bourdeaux from this little French Château he'd discovered on one of his travels to Europe, or the lightness and finesse of a Pinot Noir pressed in the Loire region. But since Irene only drank red wine when accompanying a meal, he'd gone for the Chablis, a dry white wine made from Chardonnay grapes in the heart of France, and had obviously chosen right in doing so. He'd had the feeling coming empty handed wouldn't have been the right thing to do this evening, especially since his news on the investigation weren't exactly pleasant. Rick unwrapped the top of the bottle, pulled out the cork with the professional screw that Irene had handed him, and poured a small amount of it into her glass to let her taste it.

"Pat called just a few minutes ago. She hasn't heard from the police yet, but that's not surprising, is it?" she began while going through the usual routine of examining and sniffing and rolling the tiniest sip of Chablis over her tongue. "She'd spent the day showing the destroyed pieces to their artist without receiving an explanation. I hope you've brought some good news," she looked at him as she offered both glasses to fill them up with the pale yellow wine.

"Well," Rick's brow furrowed as he considered his answer. "Maybe we should just sit down," he suggested, taking one of the glasses and gestured into the general direction of the living room. For a moment, Irene looked at him suspiciously but then led the way, sat down on one of the chairs, crossed her legs and leant back.

"No good news then, huh?" she didn't really need to ask. He'd blurted it out loud if he'd made some great discovery or had found something, anything. Both of them knew it.

"It's not bad news either," Rick explained, taking a first sip of the wine before gently putting the glass on the table, not really expecting to drink while they were talking about the case. "It's become a little more complicated," he finished.

"Complicated?" Irene's forehead wasn't that perfectly smooth anymore as she frowned at him. Maybe complicated wasn't actually the best choice of words. But neither 'interesting' or 'twisted' would have been.

"Yeah, well, the guy that probably painted the blindfolds and eyes on all those pieces turned up dead," Rick started. "I knew our best chance was to go on those paintings. It's nowhere near common for burglars to do something like that, spending so much time and effort to 'decorate' the scene before leaving." Irene nodded, obviously waiting for him to explain all of it. "So, I asked a friend for help, and he pointed out that the eyes appeared to be some special kind of tag, usually a media used in street art, but not in this particular style, being painted. And I actually found a bunch of kids who use to paint to tag, and they told me about a friend of theirs, IC, who's used Eyes for tagging."

"Makes sense, eyes being in the name," Irene agreed, nodding. Not too bad, she'd caught on quickly. Rick couldn't help but smile. Maybe he should have asked Irene to investigate together with him. Now Rick frowned himself, as he wondered why it hadn't come to his mind before. 'Maybe because she'd got a full time job and probably wasn't interesting in running across town chasing leads all day,' Rick thought. Maybe because he just couldn't imagine doing it with her? He brushed the thought away, coming back to her thoughtful and expectant look. She was still waiting for him to continue.

"Yes, doesn't it? Anyway, his friends told me where to find him, but when I got to his apartment, the cops were already there, investigating his presumed suicide." He noticed that Irene wrinkled her nose at the information, clearly thinking about what that meant.

"So he regretted the theft, and killed himself?" she asked, obviously trying to make sense of it. Yeah, that's what one would assume, except for all the little things that were off.

"Nuhuh," Rick shook his head, "the suicide was staged. Obviously, somebody else is involved in all of this. There also weren't any traces of either the stolen piece or the paint he used for the eyes at his apartment." He was glad Irene didn't ask how he knew all of this, being distracted by the information itself.

He watched her sipping her wine before she matter-of-factly stated "So, you're practically back to square one." In some respects maybe, but he wouldn't put it that way.

"Not really, there are some leads to go on," Rick hesitantly replied, considering just how much to tell Irene before this whole case was solved. After all, it was also a police investigation, and even though he was sure Irene wouldn't tell anybody else except for Pat, he was pretty sure Beckett wouldn't like him sharing details of the case with somebody else.

And it seemed his friend wasn't that eager to know more about the details anyway, since she'd leant back into the chair again, obviously satisfied with his comment that the investigation would continue, even though the progress already made appeared to go back to the start. Comfortable silence settled in between the two of them as that topic was dealt with for now.

"You enjoy it, don't you?" Irene spoke up again after some minutes, drawing his attention. Rick wrinkled his nose and wondered what she was talking about, looking at the wine glass on the table he'd barely taken two sips from.

"The investigation," she clarified, smiling at him. "You seem to enjoy it," Irene explained, nodding at her own observation.

"Well, being a mystery writer I've always taken an interest in a good puzzle, and figuring out the details of a crime. And if I can help Pat by doing so, then there are no more questions to be asked," he replied.

"It's good to see what effort you're putting into it while still enjoying it though. I admit I had some doubts this morning. I thought maybe you'd only view it as a game, and get bored after a while, but obviously you're taking this seriously. That's great, Rick." He only nodded. Well, there wasn't much to say about that, was it? Suddenly, Irene's soft smile changed into a serious expression.

"I couldn't help but notice that you've been more distant lately, Rick," she'd laid her left hand on his forearm as she addressed him, and looked into his eyes while he was considering her statement. "And don't tell me it's nothing," she continued, "We've known each other long enough for me to know that's not true." Rick fled into taking another sip of Chablis, staring down into it afterwards as he looked for the right answer at the bottom of the glass.

Well, maybe he was holding back a little lately, but only because Irene seemed to have changed, almost annoyingly pushing to talk about things. Where had their easy conversations and activities gone? Why couldn't they just go out and enjoy themselves like they used to? And when had it all gotten that complicated? There it was again – complicated – this time definitely a fitting term from his point of view. Rick let his thoughts travel back, trying to find the event or the time when the changes had begun. Was it when he had talked to Irene on the phone on his way to the hospital, informing her about Joanne's birth? Thinking about it, Rick realized just now, that there had already been a somewhat disappointed tone to her voice when they'd agreed – or so he had thought - that she didn't need to come with him to visit his granddaughter for the first time. She'd asked him twice if it was okay with him, but he hadn't given it any thought if it actually was okay with her, since he'd figured it was about his family and not her responsibilities. But that wasn't the first time though.

There had been the other evening at the restaurant only about a week before that.

"_I'm glad you could make it," Rick noticed once again the hint of nervousness in Irene's voice when she greeted him as he approached her at the bar. He supposed she'd been waiting there for quite some time, since she was playing with an already half emptied glass of some nondescript but probably strong drink._

"_Sure," he shrugged it off. Why wouldn't he have made time when she'd called him that afternoon to see if he was free for dinner? Maybe because it was dinner with her grandmother? Or because she'd done a crap of a job hiding her agitation about it? He wondered how bad the older woman could be, and if he should order some drink in preparation as well. Before he had a chance to decide about it, a young waiter led them to their table, not one he would have picked though - the table, not the waiter of course - because it sat quite prominently in the open space of the floor._

"_Sofia Anderson likes to be watched. Keeps you on your toes about your best behavior and you can be an example to others," Irene informed him after reading his mind? No, obviously she didn't like the table either, looking as uncomfortable as he suddenly felt, but was at the same time used to her grandmother's preferences. It also didn't go unnoticed that she'd referred to her by her full name. Their relationship must not be very close or maybe it was only very formal. Rick wished she'd told him about that woman before then so he'd know what to expect, and why this dinner was so important or why she needed him to be there as well. But he didn't doubt it would go well. After all, he was a public person to some degree and used to handling crazy fans, intrusive reporters, demanding PR consultants, complicated writers and other employees, not to mention his flamboyant mother and her friends or the capricious women who were his ex-wives._

"_Of course," he said, and gave Irene a reassuring smile. He hoped it would help to ease the tension that seemed to have filled up the atmosphere._

"_You're Richard Castle then, I suppose," an eerily calm female voice suddenly reached him from behind. Maybe Sofia Anderson liked to count sneaking up to being good behavior as well? The nervousness was suddenly back in Irene's expression when he turned to face her grandmother after making sure that his most charming smile was in place._

"_I am, Ma'am," he confirmed, stretching his hand out toward the woman that eyed him suspiciously. She conveyed an air of self-confidence, although she had to look up at him, her small figure reaching his chest at best. She didn't take the offered hand though._

"_Publisher and writer, divorced twice," she narrowed her eyes at him for a moment at the last statement while continuing to rattle down her list, "Single parent, Playboy, Sunday child to a stage actress…" She didn't just go there, did she? Judging by the small heap Irene had shrunken into, she obviously had. Rick was used to strangers judging him because of his biography, the track record of his failed marriages, or the way the press had made him appear for years. But in this situation, he was for a moment taken aback by the tiny yet resolute elderly woman, who plainly listed these disputably chosen basic points of a description of him. Usually he didn't care that much about what people thought of him or his past, but as it seemed Irene cared, at least about what her grandmother thought. "… legally changed the name from Rodgers to the pseudonym Castle," her itemization finally came to an end, followed by his grinned reply of "In the flesh. Nice to meet you." when she at last briefly shook his hand._

"_Sofia, I hope you had a good trip," Irene finally woke from her fugue state and kissed her grandmother on her cheek._

"_Oh you know, travelling is never that fine. Maybe I should look into some real estate here just in case you decide on staying, Irene," the older woman answered._

"_May I suggest we take a seat and order?" Rick took over, since they were still standing awkwardly around their table, while the waiter had already retreated to his position next to the bar knowing better than to interrupt their reception._

"_I've already ordered," Mrs. Anderson explained to their surprise, while removing her shoulder scarf and sitting down on one side of the table. She motioned for Irene to take the seat at her side, which for Rick only left the seat opposite them. He looked at Irene, who only nodded and smiled gratefully as though she wanted to thank him for his understanding. This was going to be a long evening._

_It wasn't long before a different waiter brought them a bottle of red wine. And when all of their glasses were filled Mrs. Anderson addressed Rick once again. "Although chess is one of the more respectable leisure activities, it seems to be a strange choice," she was obviously talking about his name. "I wouldn't know why to take that name," at this comment she took a long look at her granddaughter who answered pleadingly only with "Sofia," asking her to stop diving into this issue any further._

"_It's fitting for a mystery writer and sounds good, not too long and not too short either," Rick explained, suddenly frowning as he watched a wordless exchange between Irene and Mrs. Anderson. If one would ask, he'd swear her grandmother was warning Irene, or more like reminding her of something. But regarding his change of name? Or was it maybe about her changing her name? Why would she do that? Oh. No. Whoa! That's not what this was about, was it? Rick managed just in time to stop his eyes from going wide as he put two and two together, realizing what the elderly woman was hinting at._

_Irene and he had just started dating, why should anyone think about that? Well, he should have expected something like this, since he was meeting her family. He was, wasn't he? Of course, he was sitting right in front of her grandmother who rarely came to visit her, and who at the moment managed to outdo any and every intimidating interrogation of a worried father._

Yes, that was it the evening when the changes had begun. It was Sofia Anderson who'd placed the issue of a potential future in form of a big question mark between the two of them, strangely driving them apart from his point of view. Everything had gone just perfectly before that: they'd been happy. At least, it had been satisfying and easy. Since Sofia's visit though, he'd more and more gotten the feeling that Irene was following her grandmother's lead in pushing for something, more or less asking to know about his intentions without asking loudly. And maybe it was finally time to talk about that, even though he hadn't planned on doing so. But he owed it to her, didn't he? Only thing was, that he didn't know what he'd to expect from her. What did she want? He looked at Irene, and remembered her saying 'I love you' to him only hours before. Maybe he hadn't imagined that one after all. His eyes were lowered to the glass in his hands again. What would that mean for them? Rick wasn't sure how he thought about it. He obviously wasn't as thrilled about it as one would expect. To be honest, it somehow only brought up nostalgic feelings as though he was looking at them in the past.

"What do you want, Irene?" the question had slipped from his lips before he knew it, his gaze still captured by the bright liquid in his glass.

"What do you mean 'what do I want'?" Irene replied in bewilderment. Obviously, she hadn't expected this question any more than Rick himself had. He placed the wine glass back on the table, turning to face Irene. He gulped as he realized that yeah, this was it, the talk he had put off for some time now, a crossroad he'd faced on multiple occasions before. He should have realized then, should have reacted earlier, and answered her silent requests instead of dragging it out until now.

"I mean, what do _you_ want?" he emphasized the you. "What do you wish for? Where do you want this -" he gestured between the two of them as he spoke "- to go?" And when she just seemed to stare at him, he added to show he knew what he was getting them into with his question: "That's what this is about, isn't it? It's about what you're expecting from our relationship." And then he waited. He waited and tried to decipher the feelings playing over Irene's face as she obviously considered it.

Although she'd been pushing for some time now, she suddenly hesitated. "I don't know," she carefully stated.

"That's not true," Rick retorted, maybe a little more sharply than he'd intended to. "I think you do know." And he was pretty sure he knew it too. He'd probably known for some time, disavowing it though, knowing where it would have led to if either of them admitted to it, but it was about time to scratch at the question mark.

Irene stared at him, having put some distance between them as she'd gotten up from her seat. "Maybe," she finally admitted and looking at him intently, she added "But you don't want the same, do you?" a glimpse of sadness appeared in her eyes. Time to face the truth. They'd been dancing around it long enough, purposefully ignoring the cracks in their relationship, hoping it would hold together by sheer will, but being proven wrong as it now shattered after being tipped over by her statement-like question.

Rick sought comfort and distraction in taking another sip of the fine wine but there was no getting away, the head note of vanilla and finer peachy flavor of the Chablis suddenly turned sour on the tip of his tongue, scratching over the back of his throat when he swallowed. It didn't help.

"I'm sorry," he got up as well, reaching out for her as she turned away. "I'm really sorry," the repeated apology sounded weak, forcing him to add an explanation. "I'm not sure if I want to start all over again. I've already got Alexis and Nate and Joanne."

He'd tried to imagine having more kids, being a father again. Maybe some years ago, he'd really considered it a possibility but despite of what he used to tell Alexis or his mother when they dared to hint at him being old, he wasn't sure if he could take it anymore, all those worries during a pregnancy and with a baby, sleep deprivation from long nights, not to think about the kid growing older, starting to date and everything. He was just glad that Alexis had been such a responsible teenager and reasonable young woman, easy on him, but who knows how another child would turn out? Even if he'd tried to picture Irene with a baby in her arms, his baby, it just didn't feel right. It wasn't fair to lead her on. Maybe she'd make a good mother, but he wouldn't know because they would never have a family together.

"You deserve to have your own family," he tried to explain, "but I'm not the right one to have it with." That was it.

"I should have known," she bitterly answered as she turned back to him, hurt and disappointment poorly covered by a forced neutral expression and a sad smile. "You've never really opened up to me, have you? Never really trusted me."

"That's not true," he protested, "We've been friends before, I've always trusted you."

"Of course you have," she mocked, obviously letting anger take over, "Do you really think I'm that stupid? If you'd trusted me, why didn't you tell me about Katie?" He winced at the mention of Beckett.

"That's not the way it was. I didn't tell you about her because it simply didn't matter, it has nothing to do with my life or yours. It's in the past," Rick replied.

"It's not about whatever you had or didn't have with her in the past, Rick," Irene objected. "Do you know that Alexis apologized for what happened at the hospital, and explained that she hadn't known herself before? No, I guess not, because you never even cared to tell me about what happened there yourself. It was your daughter who finally shed some light on your strange behavior after your first visit there. You've never let me in when it came to your family," she accused him, suddenly sighing in defeat, "But maybe I was stupid for hoping, for holding onto it even though I always knew you didn't count me for family, that one day you might."

"You're not stupid," Rick didn't know how else to respond, withdrawing the hand that was reaching out for her, as he realized that he had lost the right the comfort her when she only stared at it. That's what he had feared all along, losing their friendship by screwing up whatever they'd tried to have.

"I'm sorry, Irene," he once more apologized, "I didn't mean it to be like this." He smiled weakly at her, not waiting for an answer as he turned to leave her apartment for the last time.

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**Author's note**: And with that you can consider Irene to be out of the picture (even though not completely out of the story since she's still connected to the burglary case). I hope you can live with the way I dealt with the break-up. Please leave a review and share your thoughts with me.


	20. Wine and crackers

**Author's note**: I'd like to take the time and thank of you who stick with this story and let you know that I really appreciate your feedback. Thanks a lot especially to my beta annem57

**Disclaimer**: I most definitely do not own "Castle".

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**Chapter 20 – Wine and Crackers**

_**Lanie's POV**_

**Monday, May 31****st**** 2021**

Lanie had almost reached the door when she hesitated, although she'd thought it all through already. If she'd called first, her friend would have done anything to get rid of her and avoid the conversation Lanie was determined to not let her avoid anymore. Recent events had shown that there was clearly something going on that Kate had been reluctant not to let her in on, and Lanie wanted to find out about it, even though it might not be that easy. So she went up the last steps to the apartment and raised her fist to knock vehemently at the dark wooden door. After waiting for a moment without any response she repeated the action, her knuckles firmly hitting the door for another round of knocks.

"Lanie?" an obviously surprised Kate answered the door with a towel draped over her arm, her feet bare, and swung the barrier open.

"Sorry to interrupt your date with the bathroom," Lanie motioned at the towel, "but my friends and I decided to pay you a spontaneous visit. Can we come in?" Kate – as expected - gaped at her in bewilderment. When the other woman tried to look past her into the corridor, it gave Lanie the perfect opportunity to slip in, heading straight for the kitchen where she unloaded her purse. She placed the dark bottle of 2014 Caymus Cabernet Sauvignon on the counter accompanied by a package of breadsticks and a box of crackers. She'd planned on having a fruitful conversation, not to acquire a hangover when she's supposed to rise early for work the next morning.

"You call these your friends?" Kate, who'd followed her into the kitchen, laughed at the sight. Lanie only shrugged in response, opening the cupboard to get two wide wineglasses while her friend fished a corkscrew from a drawer and opened the bottle.

"Aw, you shoulda known by now. Wine can be a very good friend - listens patiently, and sometimes also knows how to make you do something unexpected yet worthwhile," Lanie stated as she watched Kate pouring their glasses half full to let the red breathe, handing her one of them then leading her into the living room.

"And this time it convinced you to come over – unexpectedly." Lanie smiled at the mocking statement.

"You gotta do what a delicious drop suggests. Since we haven't had a proper girl's night in some time and I've got the feeling there's a lot of things we've got some catching up to do about it, was easy to agree with," Lanie all but hinted to the reason for coming by as she put her glass down on the coffee table, taking her spot on the soft brown leather couch Kate ensconcied herself right beside her as usual, pulling one foot underneath her and facing halfway to Lanie.

"Something new about Wilson?" she questioned.

"That's not what I meant," Lanie remarked, tilting her head to one side and raising a single brow. She'll let her get away with it; for now. "But if you have to know, you're right," she confirmed the doubts Kate had voiced earlier about it really being a suicide. "The quick tox testing strip is shining in all colors of the rainbow. I guess he had a nice drug cocktail down when he took his bath. He most likely was already passed out when his arms got cut open. There's no way the guy killed himself, intoxicated as he was. We'll have to wait for the full lab report on his blood and stomach content, but I already gave a statement declaring it to most likely being homicide." Kate had been nodding all the while, not the least bit surprised obviously.

"So, 36th jurisdiction, isn't it? Who's working the case?" she asked, while obviously considering how to get better access, or how to get the 21st to take over the whole investigation.

"Detectives Waltham and Baker, but I don't think they'd like to have it taken from them," Lanie warned, "And murder clearly beats burglary, but I don't need to tell you, do I?" Kate only squinched up her face at the statement. Of course she would know. And considering the kind of cop she was herself, she would never have let a murder case be taken from her team without putting up a fight. But then again, now being Captain she had a little more power, and could maybe use her connections to join teams, or take charge of the investigation. Lanie felt a giggle bubble up as she imagined the slightly neurotic Baker wiping away and renewing half of the writing at the white board, which Kate still preferred to a smart board when it came to work out the details of a crime. She wondered how Castle would fit into the picture. Oh yeah, Castle, that's what she'd actually come for, to find out what happened that changed their relationship from running into each other by accident, being angry at each other to turning up at a crime scene together.

"Now it's my turn to ask questions. Because you, girl," Lanie pointed at her friend, "You've got some explaining to do." She expectantly eyed the woman, trying to get past the cop shell.

Instead of answering, Kate chose to reach out for a bread stick, nibbling at it casually. "I don't know what you mean," she replied innocently, not fooling Lanie for a second though, who took another sip of wine before continuing her interrogation.

"Girl, I know you do, but let me spell it out for you: we're talking about this writer of yours waltzing in on the crime scene all of a sudden." To say she'd been surprised to find him there was an understatement. Even though she knew Kate and Castle had met each other after their run-in at the hospital, she'd never expected them to dive into their old partnership again.

"He's not _my_ writer," Kate retorted indignantly, clearly anything but pleased with Lanie's choice of words.

"So you are say. But then tell me, why was he with you at the scene - a crime scene we just worked out _you_ shouldn't even have been at - when you're not working together as you claim?" Lanie abandoned her glass in favor of fully turning to Kate, to show her she wouldn't let it go. Her friend didn't stand a chance as she tried to stubbornly stare her down instead of responding.

"Well, if you must insist on knowing, Wilson is a suspect in a burglary of a gallery coincidentally owned by a sorority sister and friend of Castle's girlfriend. And I've been struck with the misfortune to deal with this case while Patricia O'Neil, the gallerist, obviously decided to hire Castle as some kind of private eye." Kate hesitated as if she was waiting for a response but Lanie only frowned at the story. Since when did the head of a precinct run some burglary case? And the writer had added another profession to his list? And they just so happened to find their suspect murdered in his bathtub? Sounded more like something Castle would have written. Then again, Lanie, could recall him stating something like "turning a plain burglary case into a homicide" which only seemed to confirm the strange story. Uh, the detectives working the case wouldn't like that mess. She eyed Kate.

"And that's for real?" Lanie inquired eventually, only getting a nod for an answer. "So, you decided to join forces and relive the old days?" She really needed another eyebrow since she didn't know how to push that one any higher. Even though Kate had insisted that they weren't working together, the cute baseball guy officer had told her that Castle had been waiting for Beckett at Wilson's apartment. Something about working as a consultant.

"No," the low answer of her friend almost sounded like a question, seeming even more suspicious than before, anything but convincing. Kate fiddled with the stem of the wine glass. So what was true then? Working together or not? Taking advantage of the slightly uncomfortable and wine eased state of Kate Beckett, Lanie decided to let her still raised eyebrow do the talking, waiting her friend out. Sometimes she needed pushing, and sometimes less was even more.

Her single expectant "Girl!" finally broke the silence and cracked her friend.

"Ok, I may have agreed to working together on this single case in the end," Kate admitted, surprising Lanie after all - but only by a little, as she'd already suspected as much. Maybe writer boy still held some spell over her friend, who usually wasn't one to let somebody else meddle in her work. If she were more of a romantic, she clearly would smile at that thought, the story fitting perfectly into some cheesy love novel. If she were romantic, that is. But since she was more of the realistic kind, she couldn't help but wonder what effects this reinstalled partnership – no matter how short lived it was going to be – would cause and how it would affect Kate.

"You sure that's a good idea?" Lanie questioned, barely hiding her concern. Although Kate wouldn't admit to it, and had desperately tried to hide it, she hadn't taken it well when their extraordinary partnership had come to an unexpected end. It had been so typical Beckett, being stubborn and holding back until it was too late. As good as she was professionally acting on and trusting her instincts, when it came to her personal life, she managed to turn it into a complete mess at times. Maybe if her sense of timing had been just a little better years ago, Kate might never have started the thing with Davidson. Kate claimed to be over it, that she'd moved on after her divorce, but judging on her obvious lack of a personal life over the past years, Lanie wasn't really convinced about it.

And now the past in the person of one Richard Castle was catching up with her again? Lanie had her doubts about that being good for her friend. For all she knew – what she'd managed to get out of Kate actually - the both of them didn't really have a good start meeting again, although their conversation at the crime scene earlier wasn't that different from the way they'd acted back during that first year when Castle had started tagging along. While waiting for a response, she watched Kate carefully, who took an astonishingly high interest in her own feet and wriggling her toes. That was a good sign. It showed Kate was really thinking about it and would probably give an honest answer.

"I don't know," the other woman stated, sighing when she looked up at her again. Lanie rewarded her sincerity with an earnest nod. "I really don't know, Lanie. But it's only this one case, so what could possibly go wrong?"

Lanie knew better than to point out a number of possible outcomes, or even that she highly doubted it would keep at only one case. She narrowed her eyes at her friend. "So, you're seeing him again tomorrow" after the tiniest of a pause adding, "to work together?"

Kate nodded. "Right after the big meeting," she replied, a small sigh escaping. Oh yeah, there was still the high priority case keeping Kate busy. Lanie looked at her compassionately. Maybe this whole thing with the burglary and Castle wasn't that bad after all, distracting her from the all time draining case of murdered kids.

"Making any progress?" she questioned, not surprised by the small "barely" being the answer. Lanie followed the cop's gaze to a manila envelope holding a messy bunch of papers, probably containing some information on the case Kate had brought home to work on and browsed through earlier.

"It keeps getting worse actually. Sometimes I wonder if bringing in the feds maybe wouldn't be that bad of an idea." Lanie knew that it was no easy thing for her friend to admit.

"Ooooor," she stretched, "you only need a distraction every now and then, so you can start with fresh eyes." She raised her single brow again and wiggled it suggestively. After a short pause, and taking a lighter tone, she said: "Maybe you have just the right opportunity in picking up where you nearly left off with writer boy." Lanie had always been the one to suggest a more forward strategy, attack being the best form of defense; and in this case maybe even offering some kind of closure to the former Detective.

"Not that again, Lanie," Kate groaned and let her annoyed eye-roll show, lifting her right leg up and placing the foot on the floor as though she'd needed to be grounded. Lanie's smile didn't even waver as she stored away the observation of her friend's reaction.

"All I'm saying is that Castle's aged quite nicely," she stated. "You can't deny that. From what I've seen, I'd say he's not only still looking good but also keeps in his body in shape," Lanie stated casually, and almost choked on the sip of wine she'd taken to create a pregnant pause as she caught her friend nodding. That was as good as admitting she liked him. Her cough, though, drew Kate's full attention to her again, which immediately stopped the probably unconscious gesture of agreement.

"You know, you're incorrigible, Lanie," Kate slapped her lightly on the arm, when she only laughed. "But there is really no danger to be expected from him in those respects, he's got a girlfriend, remember?"

"Don't accuse me for not having your own filters in place," Lanie waved any attempts off of letting Kate get through with her attempts to blame her, noticing the way she'd spoken about the 'danger' in Castle still being good looking. Maybe it was her exhaustion, or that Lanie had surprised her, or the wine had loosened her tongue, but whatever the cause may be, apparently Kate seemed to have some moments of being more open. She definitely still liked the guy in some way, even if he obviously annoyed her. She may not be willing to admit to it though, and definitely not act on it, but she did still like him. And if she really was going through with investigating together with him, then maybe they should set aside some more girl time over the next few days. She would definitely take care of not being left out of the loop any more. Lanie sipped at her drink, smiling. No, she would take good care.

"You know my private life isn't yours to orchestrate," Kate halfheartedly insisted, having placed her now emptied glass on the table.

"Someone has to," Lanie replied grinning while pouring some more of the ruby red liquid into the glass and handing it to her again. "Since you're abandoning it on a regular basis, I just may have to file for custody."

"Show me the judge able to decide on that verdict," Kate finally joined her in laughing. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of it myself." If it wasn't for anything else, at least the honest belly laugh of one Kate Beckett was worth putting in some effort to smoke her out of her hole more often.

"I just have to see that, girl," Lanie replied, the soft sound of a vibration alerting her to the phone in her bag. A quick glance at the display revealed the caller ID. Javi already missing her?

"Speaking of private life, seems yours is calling for you," Kate stated grabbing another bread stick. There probably was no use in denying it.

"Pretty much, yeah," Lanie grinned, "But having a healthy private life doesn't mean I don't get time for my girl." She glanced at the display again, realizing it was almost 11 PM.

Kate watched her, grinning as well. "Time to go, huh?" she asked, clearly amused. There was nothing wrong with enjoying to go home to the man waiting for you from time to time, although it had taken her some time to admit it. Actually, she'd really like to go home.

"Let you get back to your date with the bath after all," Lanie suggested before emptying her wine glass. "But you'll have to promise me a rep."

"That may be possible, if you keep me in the loop with Wilson," Kate promised and got up as Lanie did and snatched the empty bottle. "Thanks for stopping by," she let Lanie know that she'd done the right thing, still being sure that if she hadn't come this evening, Kate would have found some thin excuses to dodge her questions or at least postpone answering her.

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**Author's note**: As you can see this chapter kind of mirrors the former. And yeah, I made up another precinct. Let me know what you think.


	21. Partners

**Author's note**: I'm sorry for being late again, but somehow that tiny little 2-Shot "Relations and Revelations" (the second half yet to be published) demanded to be written before I could continue on this one. To make up for it I decided to update one day earlier, as about next weeks update I can't promise to update at all since I'll be travelling to the European Castle meeting and don't know if or when I'll be able to write and upload anything.

Now's probably the best moment to thank all of my patient readers especially those of you, who reviewed and exchange PMs with me, and not to forget annem57, who practically betaed this chapter over night. Thank you.

**Disclaimer**: I neither own "Castle" nor aim to make money in writing and publishing this little piece of work here. I'm doing it for the fun.

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**Chapter 21 – Partners**

_**Esposito's POV**_

**Tuesday, June 1****st**** 2021**

Javier looked up as Detective Harris stomped past his table, Rodriguez hot on his heels. He watched them curiously, as he was glad for any reason to take a break from doing paperwork while waiting for another case. Judging on the grim faces of his fellow detectives, the scheduled meeting didn't go very well. "I don't believe it," Harris, the older of both detectives, hissed angrily at no one specifically and didn't even look back.

Javier turned to look at the door leading to the conference room, but obviously they were the only ones who had decided to leave: whether voluntarily or not was unclear. The doll case was now a week old and nowhere near being solved: not exactly a jubilee to celebrate, especially when meeting with some colleagues from Chicago. That the Chief of Detectives joined them after the meeting had already started, as well as said meeting going on for ages, wasn't exactly promising either. And the mood Harris and Rodriguez were in after storming out into the bullpen only added to the picture. Javier wondered what was going on in that room. He didn't envy his colleagues at all for their case, which seemingly got tougher each day.

When the detectives had disappeared around the corner, a loud bang alerted him something had been dropped on one of their desks, probably the folder Rodriguez had been carrying. "Hey Blair, can you find out what's going on?" he motioned to his partner in the general direction of the two detectives, but the woman didn't get up.

"They had a meeting with some cops from Chicago," she informed him, "probably there are connections between a case they have and the doll case, leading to a heated discussion how to deal with it, since the case will probably get lost to the feds if they somehow sniff it. Guess the CoD is determined to go all by the book while Harris and Rodriguez disagree," she offered her theory, then added, musing after looking at the closed door, "and since they're still on it without suits spilling from the elevator and infesting the precinct, I suppose the Captain isn't that fond of the idea of us losing the case either."

"Nice theory," Javier agreed, "But I'd actually had the ill-founded idea you'd get up to ask them," he glared at her, "you know, show some compassion and all." Blair only shrugged in response shaking her head. Yeah, he'd supposed so. "Well, then there's obviously only one thing to do," he started grinning and pushed some papers on his desk from one spot to another, "You're gonna finish these papers and file them, while I take one for the team."

"Didn't your mother teach you not to put your nose where it doesn't belong?" his partner mocked.

Javier grimaced and feigned offence. "Wouldn't it make me a bad detective to not want to know what's going on, and to let go of the opportunity to gain first-hand information?" he said as he stood up, well aware of Blair's skeptical eyes on him.

"They won't be delighted," the female detective warned. "Besides, there isn't any other information to gain, Espo. I'm right anyway," she self-confidently remarked, and lowered her gaze to her papers again. Smart-ass. What did he do to be punished with that impudent kid for a partner? What happened to the times when junior detectives respected, even admired, their assigned partners? He could do with a little more worshipping. Wouldn't hurt, would it? He would be just fine with only one of this kind of woman in his life, preferably the one he'd finally convinced to some more commitment in their shared private life. But no, he had to be surrounded by them.

While he headed back to the desks of the other homicide team Javier tried to come up with an excuse. His thoughts were rudely interrupted when he had to quickly dodge sideways to not collide with Rodriguez, who obviously was fleeing his partner. With a couple of files piled in his arms, he seemed to aim for the archives, seeking shelter in the one room Harris usually avoided. Javier briefly considered turning around to let the older cop cool down first. It would probably be better not to cross Harris just now.

'Too late!' Javier realized, when he heard the senior detective addressing him. "Another one who can't resist to helping?", annoyance evident in Harris' voice as the last word dripped from his tongue, while he didn't even bother to look up at his colleague or stop what ever he was doing. As Javier could see, the cop was rearranging photos on the murder board. Being used to that way of laying out evidence and information about a case in order to get a better overview, Javier could immediately tell that the other cop was adding new victims to the case. Although the traces of color on the board seemed to indicate that Harris had wiped half of the timeline away angrily, his motions must have calmed down since then, but in a worse way. The coldness of the slow actions communicated that the cop seemed to not care about it any longer, or rather was convinced that there was no point in keeping up his work.

"Too much help?" Javier asked, drawing Harris' attention.

"The Captain send you?" the older detective narrowed his eyes on Javier angrily as if he was some Rookie getting in the way. But he wasn't impressed much less intimidated. He only shook his head.

"No, she's still in there," he stated calmly. Harris didn't respond but instead turned to the board again. It now showed the pictures of five doll-like children's bodies, and Harris used a pen to add names, dates and other details, obviously ignoring that Javier was still there.

"And she's probably still fighting your cause," he tried to get through to Harris again. The other detective seemed to almost paint each letter perfectly on the board, paying more attention to its form than the content or reason he wrote it.

"Of course she is," he mocked but didn't look up again. It would probably be best to let go for now. Javier didn't move though immediately. "She did a very good job already. Your friend practically told 'em that we have nothing to go on." The younger detective decided to ignore the 'friend' statement. Since everybody at the precinct knew about their former partnership; ever since Beckett had been transferred to the 21st as well and put in charge, Javier had, from time to time, dealt with colleagues who thought that friendship would give him unjustified advantages. Usually, their accusations weren't uttered that loudly, and Harris especially wasn't one to do so at. He must be pretty frustrated by the case and recent developments. Javier only nodded, and followed the example of Rodriguez by giving Harris space to calm down and turned away.

On his way back to his desk, Javier heard the elevator dinging to indicate the arrival of a visitor. Suspicious about who would step out of the box if it wasn't one of the other cops, he stopped. And he was right, the person that arrived was a familiar mystery novelist, who he'd last worked with ages ago. He'd actually been pretty surprised when Lanie had informed him last night that Beckett was working a case together with Richard Castle. He'd had better things to do at the time than to interrogate her further about it, but now he wished he'd taken the time to find out just how that reunion had happened. Luckily, his girl kept him informed, so he had already known that, at least on one occasion, his boss and her former shadow had met before now. According to Lanie, that encounter hadn't ended well though. No wonder both of them were puzzled by this unexpected renewal of their former working partnership.

While Javier watched Castle, who obviously hadn't spotted him yet, he gathered that approaching the other man from his left side would give the cop the element of surprise. Grinning excitedly, he decided to put it to good use. After he'd schooled his posture and expression, he walked up to the novelist.

"No coffee?" he questioned, quirking a critical eyebrow as he addressed the startled writer, congratulating himself on the convincing show. The other man honestly looked puzzled. Obviously Javier had the advantage of knowing to expect him here today, his opposite clearly not being aware of him working at the 21st.

"Esposito?" his name resounded in a high-pitched response. Well, at least the author recognized him. He would have been offended if he hadn't, since even though everybody knew Castle had been following them around because of Beckett, he liked to think that the four of them had become a team, developing a special bond until after that spy adventure case when the writer had quit tagging along. He'd probably been the only one of them who wasn't that surprised Castle had never come back: even warned Beckett about it, actually. Although he'd been pretty sure the message had come across, it obviously hadn't helped or changed anything.

"Yeah," Javier confirmed even though it wasn't necessary, "You're coming for the Captain?" he added, which was of course only rhetorical, since he already knew that much. The writer nodded nonetheless, and craned his neck until he spotted the Captain's office, the open blinds leaving no doubt about it being empty.

"Have you seen her? She asked me to be here at 10," he said as he lowered his gaze to the shining Rolex at his wrist to check if he was on time. Obviously Beckett hadn't expected the meeting to go that long either, but the cop was pretty sure she wouldn't be pleased for someone interrupting only to announce Castle's arrival.

"She's in a meeting, but you can wait for her in the break room," Javier therefore suggested and motioned into the direction, the writer following his lead as he turned to go there. Maybe he'll get coffee himself, and some information from the writer.

"So what did you mean before? About the coffee?" Castle questioned as he nodded at the offered mug.

"I don't know," Javier shrugged casually. "Just can't really remember you seeing stepping from the elevator, appearing on a crime scene or emerging from the break room and not be carrying coffee," he put on a thoughtful expression teasing the man.

And to his delight, Castle jumped at it, frowning, "That makes me sound like I were some sort of coffee delivery guy."

"Yeah, why did _you_ think Beckett kept you around that long?" Javier poured some of the coffee-like brew from the glass jug beneathe the filter machine into their mugs after checking that its temperature was still just high enough to suppose it was drinkable. He handed one of the mugs to the pouting writer. "Just so you know, I had plenty of valuable qualities to offer, still have, actually," the man remarked.

The detective watched Castle, who was taking a careful sip of the at best lukewarm liquid, instantly wrinkling his nose as it hit his tongue. "Well, _that's_ clearly nothing I've missed," he murmured eying the remaining liquid in the mug suspiciously. Javier couldn't help but grin at the comment.

"You and Beckett then, hum?" he asked, raising the mug of coffee to his lips. He refrained from shivering after drinking, but this beverage was way too cold to even begin to overlook the fact that it didn't even nearly taste the way coffee should. He wasn't picky, and for sure not one of those fancy latte guys. He was usually content with having a plain, black, strong shot of caffeine. But this 'coffee' lacked at least two of those qualities. Someone should brew a new pot. He noticed the baffled look on the writer's face, who had already abandoned his own mug, maybe intending to forget he'd ever taken it.

"Joining her on a case just like old times," Javier clarified his former statement.

"Yeah," was the only response he got, accompanied by a nostalgic smile. Another sip of the wannabe coffee bridged the gap to some moments of comfortable silence Javier thought back about the old days at the 12th, and wondered why the writer was there now.

He took another close look at the man who'd sat down on the worn out sofa underneath the small window, taking in his surroundings as well. He'd not changed that much. Some grey strands here and there, more wrinkles as well, but haven't they all collected some of these, visible or not. There was still, even if a little fainter, the same old boyish grin in place and a spark of mischief in his eyes. He appeared to be tired though, like he hadn't gotten enough sleep. Maybe Castle had had a hot date followed by a late night. Or considering his age, Grandpa Castle only suffered from the usual insomnia elderly people had to deal with. He almost chuckled and wished to have someone to fist bump for the not loudly uttered thought.

"So you're also working at the 21st then. How're you doing?" the writer finally spoke up again, snapping Javier from his thoughts. Oh, he understood. Castle wanted to know about what had happened since they saw each other for the last time.

"Yeah, transferred here to lead my own team some years ago," he wondered what there was to tell. Not much, probably. Being a homicide detective hadn't changed that much over the course of time. His partners had changed, but investigation murders kept being pretty much the same.

"What about Ryan?" Castle asked, maybe expecting to meet the other cop any minute as well. He really didn't know much, did he? Javier frowned. Wasn't a writer supposed to do research? And wouldn't Castle at least have googled or something?

"Nah, he decided to go for a less dangerous position and more reasonable hours out of consideration for his girls," Javier informed the writer about his former partner at the 12th. Castle didn't seem to be that surprised though. Maybe he'd done some research after all?

"I've heard he's giving classes?" the writer more stated than asked. Javier nodded. Although he was, by now, used to seeing the Irishman with his little daughters, he still had troubles picturing him teaching future cops. But the academy could be glad to have someone like him.

"Yeah, can you imagine that?" he laughed, being rudely interrupted by his current partner.

"Forgot your paperwork, Detective?" Blair popped her head in. Javier flinched at her. 'I wish you had,' he thought, shaking his head.

"And I didn't forget yours, but maybe I forgot to give you some extra reports to prepare." To his delight, Blair grimaced now. "But first let me introduce you to," he hesitated only for a moment, wondering which description would be best and then went for, "an old friend." The smile on Castle's face let him know that he agreed with the term.

"This is Richard Castle. He's a mystery novelist and used to follow Beckett and the team for some time back at the 12th," Javier decided to go with the short version when Blair had finally entered the break room. Turning to Castle he added, "And this is Detective Melinda Blair, my junior partner for about two years now."

After a couple of 'pleased-to-know-yous', handshakes and small talk, Blair demonstratively announced that she had to get back to work and declined the offer to take a cup of the not-really-coffee with her before she left again. Javier shrugged.

"She seems to be nice," the author nodded appreciatively. And he was right Blair probably was 'nice'.

"She is, most of the time," the cop confirmed, thinking about the woman in question. It wasn't important whether she was 'nice' or not, but that they made a good team, and he could be 100% sure that he could rely on her. She was a trustworthy partner, the first he really got along with since leaving the 12th. Of course, Blair couldn't be compared to his former partners, but they worked well together.

"I was surprised you never tried to wiggle your way back in to tag along on a freaky one," Javier stated casually, after a pause of comfortable silence, watching the writer's face turn into a thoughtful expression as he waited him out.

"I would by lying if I said that I hadn't been tempted to sometimes," the other man eventually replied, "But I didn't want to get in the way." Javier nodded. That's what he'd suspected. He'd been right after all. But it wasn't a valid explanation for not dropping by at least once. Castle must have known that by the way he left, they believed he would return. At least, Ryan did, and supposedly Beckett as well, contradicting her repeated stoic remarks that the writer probably had better things to do. Javier frowned at the memory. Even though they'd had a farewell party, for some time there'd been the idea Castle would turn up again eventually. He must have known that much. So why hadn't he come to say his final good bye? Instead, they had learned from Montgomery that the writer was busy with his next book, the movie and stuff, only excuses to the detective's ears.

Javier wondered how long it would have taken Castle to come back if anybody had told him that Demming was long gone. Maybe the story would have been a lot different. He almost rolled his eyes at himself as he noticed that his internal monologue sounded just like Lanie messing around in other peoples' personal lives. The woman rubbed off on him, after all. He couldn't contain that grin, though. But it wasn't their place to judge much less interfere.

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**Author's note**: Thoughts?


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